


Cobalt Steel

by CosmicRust



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Borrowing from other continuities, Cosmic Rust (disease), Disintegration, F/M, First Aid/KO friendship, G1 characters - Freeform, M/M, Rare Pairings, character list might change, fluffy moments because I like to indulge myself sometimes, road trip in a rickety shuttle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicRust/pseuds/CosmicRust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't the first time something/someone cobalt blue had wormed their way into Knock Out's life, and he was really beginning to hate that color.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flutter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! Sorry for the rare pair but I'm really fond of it.  
> I'm also fond of afflicting my favorite characters with lethal diseases that cause slow, agonizing deaths.
> 
> That's not a little masochistic of me, no sir.

Knock Out had never felt his spark flutter. He’d felt it blaze, surge, tremor, and leap on occasion, but it never fluttered. At least, he couldn’t remember if it ever had. The sensation was foreign, heavy, and it tickled in a thick, syrupy way.  


Like other spark anomalies, this caused static to run up and down his shell and brought his innermost energon to a momentary low boil.  
This didn’t bother Knock Out too much. As long as he didn’t accidentally brush past someone, no one would notice. What bothered him was the effect it had on his EM field.  


The thin, almost unnoticeable, layer of radiation was a simple factor of a Cybertronian’s life. But, it was generated though one’s spark and reacted to anything their spark did. When the life-giving force was under stress or functioning out of the norm, its resulting field grew stronger and others could feel it if they were near. It was almost like an empathetic response. 

The first time his spark fluttered, Knock Out had been accompanying Bumblebee on some morning patrols. More and more bots were returning home nearly every day now, and Ultra Magnus had sent the two of them to keep watch.  
Bumblebee hadn’t made a move towards conversation, and Knock Out was all in for doing it for him. And, as usual, the first thing to pipe from his vocalizer was a complaint.  


“Why did Magnus have to send us out this early?” He whined. “Who’s going to land anywhere at this cycle?”  


Bumblebee had tuned him out before his griping had even begun. “I don’t know.”  


Knock Out scoffed. “Such an obedient little soldier, aren’t you?” He mocked. “Doesn’t it bother you how your new commander treats you like a scout?”  


Bumblebee’s mirrors shifted in a sort of shrug, but he offered no verbal answer.  


Knock Out decided that he wasn’t going to get much else out of his comrade. 

Ever since Optimus Prime had hurled himself into the Well of All Sparks, there wasn’t much talking from anyone. Well, except Knock Out, who wasn’t all too keen on their sudden loss for words. Even when newcomers arrived, they seemed to go into silence when they heard of their beloved leader’s fate. If you asked Knock Out, and no one did, it was all a little too overdramatic.  


Even his new assistant, First Aid, was too quiet. He was friendlier, much younger, and was far more pleasant than Ratchet. But, he was only another addition to the silent choir of somber faces. Plus, he wasn’t nearly as skilled with a buffer as Breakdown had been. 

The two sports cars continued on without a word. Knock Out let Bumblebee take the lead as he let himself slow down. It was too early for this. He was about to rest his sight sensors for a little bit when something shot past him. The vehicle was going full speed and their engine alerted Knock Out with start. He watched as Arcee whizzed in front of them, paying them no mind.  


Being passed stirred a bit of agitation in the ex-Decepticon. He hadn’t chosen an aerodynamic alt. mode only to keep up his image. He had bothered Bumblebee and Smokescreen several times to race him. Though Smokescreen occasionally agreed, it wasn’t enough to kill Knock Out’s boredom.  


He wondered why Arcee was out this early. Maybe, if he caught up with her, she might tell him. That sounded like a good enough excuse to go after her, so he revved his engines and took off, mounting speed as he neared the blue motorbike. He didn’t hear Bumblebee protest.  


Knock Out gained on Arcee, who had slowed down a few notches and was almost at a leisurely speed. Just as Knock Out was able to pull up beside her, she sped up, leaving him in her dust.  


Teasing him, eh? Knock Out felt competitive excitement boil inside him. He gunned his engines, taking the lead. Arcee made a sudden, sharp right turn that Knock Out almost didn’t see. He hastily swerved in the same direction.  


The femme had dashed from the open, flat area she had previously been and into a more urban area, burying herself in the winding, multilayered streets. Knock Out took up another path running below hers. He raced just below her until her road veered off in another direction. Knock Out screeched to a halt, spun around, and went back the way he came. He knew an entrance ramp where he could head her off. He arrived at the ramp to see that the road above it had crumbled away and covered his ramp in rubble. Knock Out hated dead ends. He worked himself back into robot mode and looked up.  


Arcee was perched on the edge of the street above, still in vehicle mode. She suddenly disappeared in reverse. Knock Out smirked. Surely she wasn’t going to try and make that jump. He didn’t have much time to react as Arcee bolted forward off the road and into the air. Knock Out climbed the crumbled street before him and watched his teammate sail across the gaping break. In mid air she transformed, legs out in front of her. She stuck the landing and straightened out.  


Knock Out had always been one to admire grace, and Arcee was no exception. Save for the slightly wobbly landing, her jump had been precise and slick.  
Then he felt it. Something stirred deep in his spark that surfaced in a way that made Knock Out’s throat burn, his legs feel a little numb, and caused a lazy smile to spread across his face. The sensation made him feel happy, but it quickly turned into embarrassment as Arcee peered over the edge above to see him. She disappeared again and Knock Out rubbed his head a little. Regaining his regular composure, he jumped down from the pile of scrap, quickly went into vehicle mode, and drove off. Something told him that he had obviously lost that race.

He had headed back to the new, in progress, base he now shared with bots whom had previously been his enemies. He fought to keep his EM field under control as he made his way back to his quarters. He made sure to walk on the opposite side of the corridors as he passed a few of his colleagues. He opened the door to the med bay, ducked inside, 

shut it, and relaxed. He never noticed how hard it was to keep his field unnoticeable when his spark was acting up.  


First Aid’s shoulders went up in alert and turned to see the CMO. Knock Out hadn’t even noticed that he was there.  


“Whoa, I, uh…appreciate the sentiment, Knock Out, but I-”  


Knock Out folded his arms self-consciously and wrestled his field down. “What? That’s not…what makes you think…”  


First Aid’s shoulders went neutral again. He almost looked relieved that the warm radiation wasn’t directed towards him.  


Knock Out had never really liked how his assistant had no actual face. All he had was a visor and a mouth guard on his profile, not to mention those weird looking plates on either side of his helm. He was the perfect example of pre-designated function. He looked just as rounded, boxy, and soft as most medics did.  


Aid’s visor flickered in a sort of smile. “Anything happen back the-”  


“No!” Knock Out answered quickly. “It’s just…nothing! It’s nothing.” He struggled to regain his usual, haughty, posture.  


“Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’,” Aid replied, his voice having a mockingly patronizing edge. “We wouldn’t want our chief medic falling ill, would we?”  


"I’m not ill,” Knock Out snapped. His EM was replaced with an irritable air as he pushed past First Aid. First Aid shrugged and went back to his own business. Knock Out rummaged for something to help clear his mind.


	2. Fluctuate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have the first two chapters written and the third is in progress.  
> And yes, all the chapter names will begin with "F". Why? I haven't the foggiest. 
> 
> Also, alt-mode body language. Get ready for a lot of it in later chapters.

He had no tools that started with Z.  


Knock Out had been alphabetizing his tools. There was nothing else to do but organize things nowadays. He had already gone by shape, size, and number of blades. He hadn’t considered arranging them by first letter until today, and the biggest disappointment this week was that he had no “Z” tools. He couldn’t even think of a “Z” tool.  
Knock Out tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.  


Well, this was it. This was his life now. No more heated battles, no more fetching relics, no more having the pleasure of dissecting his leader’s enemies. Just sitting and waiting for a mech to need light repairs, and that rarely ever happened.  


The hotrod propped his peds up on his desk and leaned back in his chair. His arms hung loosely at his sides.  


First Aid wasn’t there at the moment. He had gone to help with the city’s repairs. Knock Out scoffed. It would be a miracle if he was of any use. The guy barely came up to Knock Out’s shoulder. Knock Out had considered helping. Truth be told, there were plenty of things to do other than sit in the medbay and rust. He was never ordered to stay here, but something always kept him locked away. Aside from a few newcomers that knew of Knock Out’s “mad doctor” status, no one had been particularly unkind to him; wary, but not unkind. Still, he couldn’t shake the sense that he wasn’t wanted. It wasn’t like Knock Out to feel insecure, but being surrounded by once-sworn enemies was definitely jarring. Interacting with them was strange and something he didn’t take joy in.  


So, here he stayed unless ordered to do otherwise. He had never been fond of solitude until now, and it wasn’t like anyone visited him. Ever.  


He craned his neck back to peer at the doorway as it opened. The pedsteps were light, but lighter than First Aid’s. “Knock Out, we need you! Now!”  


Arcee stood urgently in the hallway, waiting for him to respond. He hung backwards over the chair for a second or two then shook his head, tumbling out of the chair. He awkwardly picked himself up and hurried to follow Arcee out the door. What was his problem with coordination, lately?  


At the exit to the base, Arcee somersaulted into vehicle mode and raced off. Dazed and confused, Knock Out quickly did the same and caught up to her easily. Before he could say anything, the motorbike answered his question.  


“A ship arrived. The passengers have some kind of disease.”  


Knock Out stole himself from his befuddlement and tried his voice. 

“What symptoms?” It came out sterner than he had planned, but it made for a good recovery after falling out of a chair.  


“They’re covered in dissolving welts. Whatever it is, it’s literally eating them.”  


Literally eating them? Wait, did she mean…? Knock Out resisted the urge to slam his breaks in exasperation.  


“What you just described to me is Cosmic Rust,” the sports car said slowly, flatly. “One of the most easily-cured diseases known to Cybertron. I have barrels of Corrostop gathering dust! There’s no need for the rush!”  


Arcee didn’t answer him and Knock Out huffed his engines. He was one quick Corrostop scrub down away from going back to doing absolutely nothing. 

The wing tips of the clumsily-landed ship came into view as the two arrived at the scene. It was a small craft, almost the size of an escape pod. Knock Out transformed and approached the pod leisurely on foot, his signature smug posture taking shape. The pod was already sealed shut and three faceless mechs lay on the ground. First Aid was already there, crouched over the largest mech; possibly the leader.  


“We can help you,” First Aid was speaking in a soft but firm tone. “But you need to let us do our job.”  


“No…no!” the mech croaked, shielding his face weakly. “Get back! Don’t touch me!”  


Knock Out stood over them, arms folded. Smokescreen and Bulkhead were standing a measurable distance away, Arcee joining them.  


What, afraid of a little rust? He thought.  


“Dramatic bunch, aren’t they?” Knock Out mused to First Aid. Aid and the three infected bots glanced up at the CMO. At face value, the issue indeed looked like a rather violent case of Cosmic Rust. The three mechs were covered in dark blue blotches that seemed to slowly get worse the more Knock Out looked at them. The other two bots seemed to be on their way out of consciousness, obviously exhausted from being in so much pain. But, their leader was fighting to stay awake, eyes wild and frame tense.  


“Please,” he choked out. “Just leave us alone! You’ll be infected too!”  


The leader gazed up at Knock Out, searching his optics for some understanding, but Knock Out offered him a patronizing glare instead. The medic thought of something equally patronizing to say, but he wasn’t up for gracing this mech’s misplaced terror with further response.  


“If you had just commed me, I would have brought some Corrostop along,” Knock Out said to First Aid, prepared to send the nurse to go and fetch some. First Aid was about to reply when the leader made a frustrated and fearful noise.  


“How many times do I have to tell you? Corrostop won’t help! This isn’t what you think it is!” The large mech’s voice climbed in pitch. “I’m begging you, leave us!” A patch of blue rust started working at the leader’s face.  


First Aid looked up at Knock Out again and held out a small canister of Corrostop, reminding Knock Out yet again how the remedy for this illness was such a commodity. “I’ve used up the entire thing on just this one, but there hasn’t been any improvement,” Aid said. “They’ll need a complete wash down at this point, but they obviously can’t make it to the medbay on their own.”  


The leader’s voice was now a frustrated and hopeless tone as he grabbed feebly at Knock Out’s ankle. “P-please, talk some sense into your nurse! Don’t you understand!? You’re all in danger by just being anywhere around us!”  


If Knock Out didn’t know better, he could have sworn the ‘bot speaking to him was on the verge of tears. “Please…please just-”  


“Will you shut up already?” Knock Out groaned, deciding that he had heard just about enough sniveling from this one. “Take this one back to base, First Aid. And you, Bulkhead,” he called out to the large green bot. “Take the other two and follow First Aid back.”  


A little slower that Knock Out would have liked, Bulkhead approached with Arcee and Bumblebee in tow, the same look of concern with a hint of resentment across their faceplates. Bulkhead was noticeably hesitant in transforming and Arcee and Bumblebee were even more hesitant to keelhaul the other two nameless ‘bots into Bulkhead and First Aid.  


They made it back to the base and the three newcomers were quickly shut inside a chemical shower room. Three gurney slabs had to be moved into the room to unload the immobile bots onto. The first bout of Corrostop dowsing included Bulkhead and First Aid as well, seeing as they were the transportation for the infected ‘bots. Afterwards, First Aid looked the three others over for any signs of improvement. He found none. They were doused again, a little longer this time, still with no improvement. They were washed down again and again, and as Knock Out oversaw the procedure at its unnatural length, he finally began to grow a tad concerned as well. The patients weren’t responding at all and just continued wasting away. First Aid emerged from the shower room again, giving a confused and worried glance to Knock Out. They had been at this for quite a few hours and it was getting late.  


The Aston Martin turned his sight to the shower room and at the patients, who had slipped quite agonizingly into unconsciousness forty five minutes ago. “How much Corrostop do we have left?”  


“About another full barrel,” First Aid replied. “But, I think we should give them a break. We might be overmedicating them.”  


Knock Out nodded. “Move them into quarantine. We’ll check on them in another hour or so.”  


The two of them rolled the three ‘bots into quarantine and left them the sleep of their ordeal. Knock Out trudged back to his quarters, begrudgingly thinking of new ways to organize his tools.

“Knock Out!”  


First Aid scrambled to Knock Out’s quarters, visibly shaken and on edge. Knock Out followed his nurse quickly towards quarantine and looked inside.  


There in the sealed room, the three patients were gone, and in their place were sprinklings of cobalt dust.  


The red rings in Knock Out’s optics dilated as he realized that the three ‘bots had completely disintegrated.  
\---  


Word got around quickly about the three newcomers and their disturbing fate. In a sluggishly-growing community of 800 or less, even the smallest news spread like fire across an oil lake. Everyone was concerned, shocked, and confused. Some stayed far away from Knock Out’s little clinic, while others flocked to it to witness the dark cerulean remains of the patients.  


Of course, the ever noble Team Prime was jumping through hoops to calm everyone down. They were even more swamped with curious and worried ‘bots as Knock Out and First Aid were.  


Knock Out wasn’t part of Team Prime. He hadn’t been invited to be, and he was actually okay with that. Many would have assumed that the flashy and grandstanding Knock Out would obviously want to be part of such a social scene, but such was not the case, at least not now. Knock Out saw First Aid more than anyone, and First Aid was pretty easy to talk to. They had never met before the war and didn’t have the sour taste of rivalry between them to deal with.  


Still, First Aid wasn’t nearly as keen on racing or things of the like, neither was he involved with cosmetics as Knock Out was, being an ambulance and a nurse and all. Ambulances weren’t very, well, aerodynamic. So, conversations on such topics were very one-sided.  


The two doctors had finished clearing out the clinic and Knock Out felt wound up and tense from all the questioning. After the daily crowd left, Knock Out almost immediately transformed and took off for a nice, long drive. The night air felt good as it rushed over his exterior. It was just the right thing for a cluttered processor. He sped to his maximum speed for a while until he decided to slow to a smooth cruise. He even drifted from side to side, working an even, wavy line into his tire trail. He could never do this on Earth, too many other cars and way too many suspicious human onlookers.  


After an hour and a half, Knock Out turned and headed back home. He drove in sweet, sweet silence for a while until something caught his eye. In the distance another, smaller vehicle was rolling at an even pace. The moonlight caught the other ‘bot and Knock Out got a better look at them. They were a motorbike, the color of the night sky.  


Arcee.  


Knock Out and Arcee were a good 200 feet away from each other, driving at the same speed. Knock Out caught himself staring and didn’t stop his wheels from veering in her direction. He approached her in an inconspicuous manner, which would have worked if they weren’t in the middle of nowhere. A lot of Cybertron could be categorized as “the middle of nowhere” now, actually.  


He expected Arcee to speed up or turn away, but she didn’t seem to bother with it. Knock Out pulled in alongside her. Neither of them spoke at first.  


“…long day?” Knock Out quipped, not expecting a reply.  


“Yeah,” Arcee said, flatly. “You, too?”  


“Yeah,” Knock Out returned. That’s when he realized that was suddenly very bored without conversation. “So…what happened?”  


“The usual,” the motorbike said. “Questions everywhere, people anxious for answers I don’t have, that sort of thing.”  


Knock Out made a noise of acknowledgement. “I know the feeling.”  


“We’re bridging Ratchet here in the morning. Maybe he’ll know what’s up.”  


“Ratchet!?” Knock Out exclaimed, and then realized that may have not been the smartest move. “I mean…why Ratchet? He’ll probably be just as baffled as I am.”  


Arcee’s mirrors rolled as if she were rolling her optics. “Ratchet’s been in the medic business longer than you. Plus, he was good friends with Perceptor: the mech who invented Corrostop.”  


“Yes, I know who invented Corrostop,” Knock Out replied, irritated. Everyone knew Perceptor, Mr. “I deleted my own personality to make room for more knowledge”. What a blowhard.  


Knock Out wasn’t at all pleased by the idea of sharing a workspace with Ratchet of all ‘bots, not again. Nothing like a patronizing old geezer to make you feel inadequate at your profession.  


They neared the base and Knock Out began to feel drowsy. He had burnt out the last of his energy on the drive and could really use some recharge. As if on cue, Arcee let a stifled yawn escape. Something about Arcee sharing his exhaustion made Knock Out feel a little less awkward. While he actually enjoyed Arcee’s company, he wasn’t sure if the feeling was mutual. She was just another member of a commanding group he had no interest of being a part of, but driving with her reminded him of just how lonely and drab his life was now. He would have almost missed his job on the Nemesis if every inch of that damned ship didn’t remind him of…someone he had cared about a long time ago.  


He suddenly grew tired of Arcee’s navy paint job. Good timing, too. They had arrived at the base and it was time to go their separate ways. They transformered and headed to their respective wings of the base.  


“G’night,” Arcee murmured as she walked away. Knock Out was more surprised by her words than he should have been.  


“Good night, Arcee,” He replied, watching her go. The moon still bounced off her features. He tried to remind himself of how weary he was of her color, but it still made his spark lurch.  


As the night dragged on, Knock Out was plagued by dreams. But, they weren’t just dreams, they were memories; memories Knock Out had tried to suppress and forget. But, the all too familiar large, dark blue mech was still a vivid stain on his processor.  


He woke up periodically though the night. But, when the blue figure in his dream became smaller and their optics suddenly became the color of the sky, he didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he just stared at the ceiling, trying to ward off the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat.  


He was so sick of cobalt.


	3. Falter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, a little time skipping goes on in this chapter. I kind of wanted to get to the point of the story, as I tend to ramble when I write.

Knock Out fought to keep his optics in focus as he headed up the corridors of the base with First Aid, who had clearly had more sleep than him. 

Arcee had been truthful when she said they were bridging Ratchet back to Cybertron and Knock Out and Aid had to greet him along with the others. Goodie. 

When the arrived they took their place at the end of the small semicircle that had formed near the spacebridge. Knock Out was surprised to notice how Team Prime had gained a few new members since he had last seen them. A large red, black, and silver mech stood adjacent to him, speaking with another ‘bot of smaller size with an oddly-shaped blue helm. 

Ironhide and Mirage. Knock Out had never met them, but he had heard of them. He could have sworn they had died at some point. Guess not. 

Prowl was there, too. He wasn’t talking to anyone. Standing between him and Smokescreen was Arcee. Knock Out averted his gaze when she turned her head in his direction. 

“Blaster,” Ultra Magnus’s voice rose against the idle chatter, causing a gradual hush. “Open the spacebridge.” 

The semi circle of ‘bots backed off as the spiraling cave of wires and metal whirled to life. After a few seconds, a familiar engine was heard as Ratchet rolled into the hub and transformed. His gaze swept across the group and almost instantly softened. Knock Out watched as the old medic breezed right past him and greeted Ironhide with a warm handshake. Mirage, Blaster, and Prowl all gathered to see him, their combined elated EM fields making Knock Out feel nauseous from all the sappiness. 

The new and old Team Prime together again. How sweet. 

“Sorry to break this up,” Bumblebee interjected, clearing his vocalizer awkwardly. “But, we called you here for a reason, Ratch.” 

“Right, right,” Ratchet replied, suddenly turning to Knock Out. “Show me what you found.” 

Knock Out and First Aid led Ratchet to the quarantine chamber and showed him the dusty remains. “Incredible,” Ratchet breathed. “You said they were gone in a couple of hours?” 

“Yes,” First Aid said. “We used nearly all of our Corrostop recourses, but there was no change in their condition. Then we left them for observation and they just…” 

Ratchet nodded sagely. “I see.” He took a quick look around. “Has anyone else come in contact with them?” 

“Just us, Arcee, Bumblebee, ad Bulkhead,” First Aid answered. “But, we haven’t shown any signs of deterioration.” 

Ratchet shook his head. “I still want them looked at. Have them come down here. I want to check you two, also.” 

Knock Out let out a barely audible grumble. Ratchet was here for five minutes and he was already taking his job. When he realized that Ratchet and First Aid were both looking at him, he turned and headed bitterly to the communications console and typed up the hub’s hailing frequency. “Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Arcee, come to the medbay. I-… _Ratchet,_ wants to see you.” 

***

Knock Out dusted himself off as he exited his own examination room. Ratchet hadn’t found anything on him and the Aston Martin wad more than happy to leave him to the others. Once everyone else heard that Ratchet was back, several other ‘bots came in to be checked out as well. Knock Out even saw some that had sworn to avoid the clinic like the Cybonic Plague. 

Correction, they had sworn to avoid him like the Cybonic Plague. 

The other civilians’ expressions when they saw Ratchet were less “please don’t chop me into scraplet-sized pieces” and more “oh thank God it’s you”. 

Knock Out didn’t realize how long he had been standing there, stewing in his vexation, until First Aid walked out of the examination room and turned to look at him. “What,” Aid smirked. “Do you think you need to go through there again?” 

“Wh- no.” Knock Out replied, brushing off his nurse. “I’m fine.” 

“You all clean?” Aid asked. Knock Out folded his arms. “Of course I am. Ratchet isn’t the only medical expert here. I could have told him I was okay.” 

He glanced into the exam room again. Arcee was in there, complying with everything Ratchet did. She didn’t look nearly as discontented as Knock Out felt and instead was visibly more relaxed. Come to think of it, she had been more relaxed after Ratchet had arrived than Knock Out had ever seen her. Of course, everyone had been more content with Ratchet’s arrival. But, now Knock Out was feeling a disgruntled heat sit like a rock in his chest. He narrowed his eyes. 

“Maybe patients would react better to you if you stopped threatening them with your buzz saw,” Aid said to Knock Out’s grousing posture. Knock Out spun around. “I like my buzz saw.” He grunted. “Besides, what’s Ratchet know that I don’t? Everyone’s acting like he’s the only medical professional on this planet.” 

Aid shrugged. “He knows Perceptor. And if we can’t find Perceptor, Ratchet’s our next best ‘bot.” 

“So what if he knew Perceptor once?” Knock Out snapped. “I knew Starscream once. Does that make me as much of a backstabbing prick as he is?” 

“…I’m not going to answer that.” 

Knock Out sighed. “Never mind. Forget it.” He turned away from the exam room. “Let’s just go get something to eat. I haven’t had any breakfast.” *** 

Ratchet had found something on Bumblebee. A large and steadily growing welt had appeared on his forearm under his primary plating. 

It was amazing how fast ‘bots cleared out of the clinic as soon as this discovery was made. Ratchet had ordered Knock Out and First Aid to fetch a good amount of nanite gel to apply to the welt. That would keep the rust under control, but not for long. 

Days went by, and those who had stayed away from the clinic gravitated towards it again. More welts were popping up on others. They were mostly on the arms and legs, but few had welts on their abdomen or chest. 

To Knock Out’s displeasure, Ratchet’s stay was prolonged and the three doctors had their work cut out for them. Patients began piling up, so much so that the medbay had to be temporarily extended. 

Weeks passed. Some mechs packed up and left in that time. Some moved away from the city of Iacon, while a few just up and left Cybertron all together. 

Citizens that were still in Iacon grew more restless than before. Many demanded to know why none of the ill were getting any better. No matter what Team Prime said, suspicions and distrust continued to rise. Knock Out saw Arcee go out for drives more frequently, but he never followed her. Unlike her, he was on around-the-clock duty tending to the rust-laden patients. 

Every so often, Arcee and some of the others would help care for the patients, which took the edge off some days. Their presence was in direct proportion to Bumblebee’s worsening condition. 

There had been days when Bee would be sitting up on his recharge slab, expectantly waiting for Ratchet or Knock Out to arrive for his daily once-over. Bee insisted that he felt well enough to help the other patients, but he was always denied by Ratchet, who genuinely cared for the yellow sports car, or by Knock Out, who was simply following orders. 

Those days were over. Bumblebee’s arm eventually got so bad that Ratchet had thought to amputate it. He did, but not fast enough. Bee was now one arm short and in a pretty decent amount of pain. He slept a lot, now. *** 

Then the day arrived when Ratchet made a rather unnerving discovery. He called Knock Out and First Aid together immediately after he did. 

“People are starting to get distressed about you cutting off the Corrostop treatments,” First Aid had said. “We can’t keep them calm much longer.” 

“Then tell them this,” Ratchet said, gravely. He grabbed a petri dish from the counter to his left and presented it to them. Inside was a tiny sample of the Cosmic Rust. Ratchet then took an eyedropper with a bit of Corrostop in it, squeezed a little into the dish, and quickly set it back on the counter. The rust ate through the dish in seconds, made short work of the countertop, and dissolved two drawers before it sputtered out onto the third. Ratchet turned to Aid and Knock Out again, who were both wide-eyed. 

“This is _not_ Cosmic Rust,” Ratchet concluded, punctuating every word. 

Knock Out stole his voice back. “Then, what is it?” 

Ratchet paused. “I don’t know.” 

Knock Out almost took pleasure in hearing such words come from Ratchet. But, it wasn’t like he himself knew anything either. 

“It eats like Cosmic Rust, it spreads like Cosmic Rust, it looks like Cosmic Rust,” Ratchet scraped the remaining sprinklings into another petri dish. “But Corrostop only makes it worse. And it not only eats metal, but almost everything. Glass, plastic, even Energon. And Cosmic Rust keeps eating, but this stuff tires out. Unless it has more Corrostop or something like it to feed on, that is.” 

First Aid’s visor dimmed with apprehension. “ Well, what are we supposed to tell everyone?” He asked. “They’re already panicked enough as it is.” 

“And we can’t just not treat them,” Knock Out added. 

Ratchet’s optics shifted to both doctors. “Then tell them we’ll find someone who can,” he said. “We need to locate Perceptor.”


	4. Flare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short. I've been writing in between finals. Don't worry, though. I'm more than studied up for finals and writing this kinda helps me de-stress. c:

“We’ve been _trying_ to locate Perceptor,” Blaster had said. “His hailing frequency is dead, his signature isn’t within range, and no one’s seen or heard from him in ages. He might as well have dropped off the edge of the universe.” 

“So, you think he’s stranded somewhere?” First Aid asked. “It’s not like Perceptor to just disappear.” 

Blaster shrugged. “Chances are the war drove him out like everyone else. If he told us where he was going, we didn’t get the message.” 

*** 

Amputations were being made almost every day, and Knock Out nor Ratchet had time to rebuild lost limbs. Even now, with the added help of some new volunteers whom Knock Out was more than happy to welcome, work still moved at a road-paver’s pace. 

No one wanted to wait for Perceptor. Some began to believe that no effort was made to contact him. This was made clear when one patient, delirious with pain and probably sedatives, began shouting when Knock Out went to look him over. “It’s you!” the mech screeched as soon as Knock Out walked up to him. “This- all of this is your fault!” 

Other patients (the ones that could, anyway) craned their necks to watch the commotion. The shouting mech, seeing that he had a somewhat captive audience, continued. 

“I know you! Everyone knows you and no one trusts you! Why isn’t Perceptor here!? Why aren’t you telling us anything!?” 

Knock Out looked at all the optics on him. Before he could even think of some answer, he was interrupted by the soapboxing mech behind him. 

“I’ll tell you why: this one here,” he pointed accusingly at Knock Out. “he worked with Megatron directly! And no one changes sides that quickly!” Feebly, the patient tried to sit up, but failed. “This is your plan, isn’t it? You’re going to infect us Autobots one by one and leave us all here to die!” 

An uproar rose from the other patients. Knock Out reflexively took a defensive stance. “None of that is true!” He tried to shout over the noise. “He’s out of his mind!” 

“Decepticon!” the patient cried. “He’s deceiving you all! That’s all he knows: deception!” 

Knock Out couldn’t deny the patient loud enough. Everything he said was drowned out by the others. Heat boiled in the pits of his tanks, rose through his spark chamber and roared in his processor until he was suddenly bracing himself with his buzz saw held out beside him and revving. The shouting and accusing died down and left the growling of the saw to prevail as Knock Out took a fake swing at some of the group before marching over to stand threateningly over the patient that had first spoken. 

“One more word…” Knock Out snarled, bringing his saw dangerously close to the patient’s face. “and I’ll make sure it’s the last word that ever crackles out of your vocalizer!” 

“Knock Out, stop!” First Aid yelled from a few feet away. Knock Out looked over his shoulder at the nurse. Aid had his hands out in front of him and was slowly approaching the Aston Martin. “Take it easy. Put the saw away and step back from the ‘bot.” 

Knock Out glared back at the patient, who’s optics darted from him to the saw still hovering over him. The saw slowed to a stop and retracted into Knock Out’s arm. He turned from the patient quickly to stare daggers into the other ‘bots watching. He hadn’t realized how hard he was venting. Whatever heat was possessing him immediately froze over into icy claws raking his spinal strut. He jerked when he felt First Aid’s hand tap gently on his arm. He led Knock Out towards the exit. 

“Nothing to see here,” Aid announced to the others. “Please go back to resting. We’ll be with you in moment.” 

“Don’t come back, Decepticreep!” someone answered as the door slid shut behind them. 

Knock Out pulled his arm from First Aid’s light grip and stormed up the hallway. 

“That guy was on narcotics,” First Aid called, following the other doctor. “’Bots say a lot of things while on that stuff.” 

“Yeah,” Knock Out barked back. “And the others _listened_.” 

“Why does that even matter to you? Last time I heard of you, you were Knock Out: the guy that doesn’t give Rattrap’s aft about what anyone says!” First Aid said, catching up to Knock Out. But, Knock Out stopped and rounded on him. 

“I’ve spent weeks devoting my time to them, cleaning up after them and, you know, making sure they don’t up and turn to ash,” Knock Out growled. “And this is how they repay me? I’ve been trapped in a sea of decaying metal for an ungodly amount of hours, I haven’t even gotten a break to get any sleep, and they _still_ bite the servo that _literally_ feeds them!” He paused. “And please don’t give me the whole ‘this isn’t about me, it’s about the patients’ speech. Ratchet already filled me in on that tired mantra.” 

Knock Out’s voice had died from a rage-induced snarl to a defeated sigh. His optics were aimed at the floor. 

“I get it,” First Aid said. “It’s not exactly a secret that tensions are high with you and…everyone. But, performances like that aren’t going to help anything.” Knock Out didn’t look up. 

“Look,” First Aid started again. “It’s not like no one recognizes your efforts. I’m glad you’re here and, believe it or not, Ratchet is too. With an epidemic like this, we need all the medical expertise we can get.” He turned back to the medbay. “Maybe it’s because I’m too optimistic for my own good like you say, but I think you’ll prove yourself soon enough. And, hey, I haven’t given up on you yet.” 

Knock Out looked up in time to notice that First Aid had a limp. 

*** 

“Ratchet!” 

Knock Out looked up from one of the patients he was checking on when he heard Arcee’s voice above the common din of the medbay. He saw her moving like she was weighted down. He craned his head and found out that the weight was First Aid. An unseen force dragged Knock Out’s peds towards them. First Aid was small, but still bigger than Arcee. Knock Out supported the nurse’s other side and they found somewhere for First Aid to sit. 

First Aid’s right leg was a jagged stub. 

“Found him on the floor,” Arcee said as Knock Out searched First Aid for any more rust. “A patient flagged me down and pointed him out to me.” The femme arranged First Aid into as comfortable a sitting position as she could. Knock Out grabbed Aid’s chin and turned his head towards him. There was a welt in the side of his face. When Knock Out let go Aid’s visor brightened and his head lulled up into an awake, albeit foggy, position. 

“Arcee?” he mumbled. “…What am I doing on the floor?” 

Arcee glanced at what was left of Aid’s leg and made a face. “Let’s say your leg went out from under you.” 

“No, it couldn’t have eaten his entire leg that fast,” Knock Out said, examining the stub. “That rust would have had to be working for…days at least.” He looked up at Aid. “You knew you were infected.” 

First Aid’s optic ridges drew together. “What, this? It’s just a-…oh. It got worse.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Knock Out said exasperatedly. “You should have been resting, not working!” 

Aid’s visor flashed indignantly. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a little short handed. You need me here!” 

“What we need is for you to shut up and heal up,” Knock Out snapped. He and Arcee lifted Aid by the shoulders again eventually found him a cot. It was a miracle they found one, especially now. They set him down and Knock Out stared down at the welt splitting Aid’s face. Those icy claws from before drug into his processor as he literally watched his nurse die under his supervision. 

“Go find Ratchet,” Knock Out said to Arcee before charging off. 

“And where are you going?” Arcee asked, her voice laced with something accusatory. 

Knock Out looked over his shoulder and snatched her cold blue gaze with his crimson one. “To prove myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out is pretty hard to write, especially in these kind of situations. I'm sorry I haven't been able to get all the Knock Out brand of snark we all know, I'm working on it I promise!  
> This would also be a good time to say that if you ever find any errors, grammatical or otherwise, please PLEASE let me know! I proofread, but I do often miss small mistakes.  
> Thanks!


	5. Flee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, another short chapter. It would have been longer but I feel like the next scene needed it's own chapter.

Knock Out had shut himself in his quarters. The only time anyone saw him was when he went to grab something before retreating back into his room. He didn’t say a word to anyone and ignored them outright if they tried to talk to him. 

Smokescreen managed to get an “I’m busy” out of him once when he ran into the Aston Martin gathering some chemicals Smokescreen couldn’t identify. 

Knock Out was continuing his work when someone rapped lightly on his door. Knock Out let own an exaggerated sigh. “I’m working.” 

“Well, now you’re eating,” Arcee’s voice said through the door. “Ratchet doesn’t want you staving yourself in there.” 

Knock Out was about to retort when the gnawing emptiness in his tanks decided it would no longer be ignored. He glanced at his work and stuffed it into a cabinet under his desk. “The door’s open.” 

The four components of the door hissed open and Arcee walked in with an Energon cube in hand. From her expression it looked like she had ben prepared to force feed the contents of the cube to the exhausted-looking mech before her. Knock Out didn’t put up a fight, however, and took the cube and downed it. He shoved the empty cube back into Arcee’s hands. “Now, if you don’t’ mind, I was in the middle of something.” 

Arcee made a quiet scoffing sound. “You’re welcome.” 

She was almost through the exit when she heard a quiet “thanks” mumbled from Knock Out. She stopped and turned a little in his direction. He was turned towards his desk but hadn’t made a move to do anything. Whatever he was making, he didn’t want anyone to see. 

“What have you even been doing in here?” Arcee asked, turning fully to him. “Ever since First Aid became bed ridden, all you’ve done is…whatever you’re doing in here. It’s kind of suspicious-” 

“Are you doing to leave,” Knock Out interrupted. “Or am I going to have to make you?” 

Arcee put her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” 

“It isn’t any of your business,” Knock Out muttered. 

“It’s my business when one of our medics suddenly goes missing. You have responsibilities, you know,” Arcee said back. “Just because you were a Decepticon doesn’t mean you can be shady without somebody questioning it.” 

Knock Out brought his fists down on the desk loudly, tensing against it. Both he and Arcee were silent for a few kliks. 

“You know what,” Arcee said finally, exiting the room. “Sorry I even asked.” 

Knock Out waited until she was truly gone and retrieved his concoction from the cabinet. He added a few more things to it and stepped back. It was finished. But, the more he looked at it, the more he questioned if it would fix anything. 

It was worth a shot. 

*** 

“First Aid?” 

First Aid’s visor lit up slowly as he tried to pinpoint whom had spoken to him. Knock Out walked a little closer and into his restricted view. He almost forgot about Aid’s lack of peripheral vision. “Knock Out? Where have you been?” Aid’s voice was suddenly very serious. “Ratchet’s been swamped with all the work you left for him!” 

“I know,” Knock Out replied. “But, it’ll be all worth it, I promise.” 

First aid tilted his head. “What have you been doing?” 

Knock Out held out his concoction in a syringe. “Oh, making a little something.” 

“You made a cure or something?” 

“Exactly,” Knock Out said proudly. “And you get first dibs.” 

First Aid’s visor furrowed. “No, other patients need it more than me, patients that have been sick longer. Have you even seen Powerglide? He’s literally falling apart at the seams!” 

“And he’ll get his in due time. Right now, I need my nurse back,” Knock Out responded. “Now just give me your arm and you’ll be up and moving in no time.” 

Aid still looked uncertain, but he knew there was no negotiating with Knock Out. He lifted his arm to Knock Out and the other doctor took it and injected the compound into the nurse’s main Energon line. 

“There,” Knock Out breathed, careful not to let any concern escape his voice. “How are you feeling?” 

Aid flexed his servo a bit. “A little warm.” Then he corrected himself hastily. “Actually, a little hot.” 

Then First Aid began to shake. He shook uncontrollably. 

“First Aid?” Knock Out gently put his hands on First aid’s shoulders. “Talk to me First Aid. What’s wrong?” 

“I-it…” First Aid croaked. “It burn-s-ssssSSSAAAAAAAAAEEEEE!” he screamed. His wail woke up several patients as they all looked to see Knock Out helplessly standing over First Aid. 

Then First Aid’s servo turned to navy dust in his hands. The rest of the nurse’s body was gone in a klik, and all that was left behind was blue sprinklings. The shriek died in an instant and the room was dead quiet as the last of Aid’s echoing scream faded. 

Knock Out beheld what was left of his nurse. On any other day, Knock Out would have taken pleasure in seeing a ‘bot writhe in pain and scream as they died a slow, agonizing death. But Knock Out had meant to kill them and if innocents died in the process well, that was just the price to pay. But, something was so eerie about seeing a ‘bot disintegrate into thin air right before his eyes. If it weren’t for all the cerulean ash everywhere, it was as if First Aid had never even existed. 

Snapping out of his daze, Knock Out slowly turned to see all of the optics on him. The half-empty syringe clattered to the floor. He found Ratchet approaching him, optics laden with disbelief. He took even steps past Knock Out and to Aid’s remains. He turned to Knock Out so quickly that the Aston Martin didn’t even see him move. He flinched a little at the next words the came out of Ratchet’s mouth. 

“What have you done?” 

Knock Out opened and closed his mouth several times, but no explanation came out. Ratchet discovered the cracked syringe on the ground and carefully picked it up. Some of its contents dripped sluggishly from the cracks. “What is this?” Ratchet asked coldly, holding out the needle. 

“I-it’s a-a-a cure,” Knock Out couldn’t stop his vocalizer from skipping in an undignified manor. The only words he could squeeze out were just as juvenile. “I mad-d-de i-it.” 

The disbelief was still clear on Ratchet’s face. He quietly sat the syringe on the now empty recharge slab. “You aren’t welcome here anymore, Knock Out.” 

If all the stares Knock Out were receiving weren’t burning his plating before, it was as if they had all stabbed him with hot irons. The other patients looked like they had been waiting for Ratchet to say that for ages. 

Without a word, Knock Out turned and left. He felt everyone watch him go. When the door shut behind him he began to pick up his pace. He ran a clawed servo through his helm wings and moved into a steady jog. He didn’t remember grabbing his staff and he almost didn’t notice exiting the base and tearing off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reading all the comments I've been getting and I'm SUPER stoked that you like my story and you want more! Comments like those really brighten up my day! Thank you all so much! Kisses!


	6. Futile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get this started, I want to apologize for mis-tagging this story with "no one dies I promise". When tagging, I had forgotten about my prior plans that defied that tag. My bad! Someone pointed this out to me and now it's fixed. 
> 
> With that out of the way, read on!

The last of the scream that rattled through the medbay had woken Arcee and Smokescreen, who had dozed off in a couple of chairs by Bumblebee’s recharge slab. Bee still lay asleep and undisturbed. Arcee and Smokescreen had woken just when the scream stopped. They exchanged a brief look before going to investigate. Farther away from the commotion, they wound through the maze of incapacitated ‘bots. They heard a quiet quarrel, and even quieter benediction to said quarrel, and footsteps leaving the scene. When they finally arrived, Ratchet was trying in vain to calm the panicked patients down. 

“You’re letting him get away!” one cried. 

“He’s going to reduce us all into useless piles of scrap!” exclaimed another. 

Smokescreen and Arcee got closer and Ratchet noticed them. “What happened?” Smokescreen called over the racket. That’s when Arcee noticed the blue soot-covered slab. That was where First Aid had been. Arcee approached the table, careful to not touch the rust. This couldn’t have been First Aid. He wasn’t as bad as the others. There was no way he had gone so fast. Smokescreen appeared beside her, the asking same questions as she was. The syringe still lay cracked on the slab, dripping slightly. They put two and two together. 

“This isn’t that thing that Knock Out was working on, is it?” Smokescreen murmured. The smell of the chemicals he had seen Knock Out with was wafting into the dank medbay air. 

“Yes, unfortunately it is,” Ratchet said. “And he used First Aid as his test subject.” 

The two younger Autobots stared dumbfounded at the slab. “Poor kid…” Smokescreen muttered. 

“Wait,” Arcee interjected on the somewhat silence. “This doesn’t make any sense. First Aid was Knock Out’s friend, why would he do this to him?” 

“Because First Aid got in the way,” Ratchet snapped. “Haven’t you ever met a Decepticon? ‘Friends’ don’t matter when a greater goal is in their sights!” 

“Knock Out has nowhere to go,” Arcee returned with the same intensity. “why would he want to poison his last resort? No one is that idiotic!” 

“This is Knock Out we’re talking about, ‘Cee,” Smokescreen said and regretted it the instant he said it. 

“I’m going find Knock Out,” Arcee glowered, walking past Ratchet and to the exit. “None of this adds up and I want his side of the story.” 

“Arcee, wait up!” Smokescreen called after her as they both dashed outside. *** 

Arcee and Smokescreen drove across the flat, dusty terrain for quite some time. There was no sign of Knock Out apart from barely visible tire tracks that the wind was beginning to erase. 

“Knock Out wouldn’t have meant to do that to Aid,” Smokescreen said after minute 45 of their search. “Would he?” 

Arcee had been heated during her conversation with Ratchet, but the more she thought about the situation, the more she began to question her stance on the matter. 

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” she answered finally. 

“Because maybe Ratchet was right. Once a Decepticon always a-…Arcee, look! I see him!” 

“Where!?” 

“There! Up ahead!” 

Sure enough, the Aston Martin was barely in view about 200 yards away, driving at maximum. 

Both the blue sports car and motorbike gunned their engines in pursuit. 

“Knock Out!” Arcee shouted through her commlink. “We just want to talk!” 

Knock Out didn’t answer and certainly didn’t slow down. 

“We don’t think what you did was on purpose,” Arcee tried again. “We just need to clear things up!” 

They caught up to him and were now about ten yards away. They almost sped past him as he transformed in mid drive, making a perfect back flip and stuck the landing, staff in hand. Arcee and Smokescreen skidded to a halt and took their robot modes as well. They held their servos out in front of them and Knock Out jutted his staff towards them. 

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” Arcee said in a calm, slow voice. It felt like she was talking down a crazed maximal. “We just need you to explain what happened.” 

“You won’t believe me,” Knock Out snarled. “No one will _ever_ believe me! I’ve killed tons, what makes you think this will be any different!?” 

“We all have,” Arcee replied. “We were at war. But, the war is over now, and we _don’t_ want to harm you.” She emphasized again. 

Knock Out began to pace uncoordinatedly like a ‘bot on circuit speeders. His weapon was still gripped tightly in his hand while his other began scratching through his helm. He looked like he could barely hold in his anxiety, wound tight and couldn’t stop trembling. 

Arcee had never seen him like this. She couldn’t have ever imagined him being the jittery wreck he was right now. Something definitely told Arcee that Knock Out hadn’t meant to do what he did. 

“This is wrong, this is wr-wr-wrong!” Knock Out blurted finally, vocalizer skipping again. “I put-t all the right things in, I let it sit for the correct time, I did every-ything! This wa-asn’t supposed to happen! It didn’t work! It didn’t work…” He was already working a rut into the ground by dragging his stumbling peds. 

Arcee dared to near him. “What didn’t work, Knock Out?” 

“Stay _back_!” Knock Out swung his activated staff at her. Arcee reflexively unsheathed her arm blades and swatted the staff inches in front of her face. Knock Out took another jab at her and she brought her blades down so the staff’s live end drug into the dust. Still with a death grip on the staff, Knock Out jerked it back out from under Arcee’s arms, the end hitting the blades and momentarily pulling her forward. For the brief klik that Arcee was off balance, Knock Out brought his weapon above his head and pulled it down with all of his crazed strength. Arcee was just able to catch the staff on her blades again as it nearly struck her square in the head. Sparks spat from the two metal weapons grinding hard on each other, causing the familiar splitting shriek of steel against steel. This time, Arcee deliberately seized the protruding bit of metal near the head of the staff and yanked her arms over her helm. The staff flew out of Knock Out’s servos and landed vertically in the ground just beside Smokescreen, who pulled it out and tossed it to Arcee. Arcee’s final move was to hold the staff just below Knock Out’s chin. Knock Out yielded, looking directly into Arcee’s optics. 

“Now,” Arcee said smoothly. “I can help you, but you need to let me do my job.” 

Knock Out was still for a minute, but eventually gave her a quick nod, careful of the prod by his neck. 

Arcee slowly brought the staff away from Knock Out and the Aston Martin’s helm lulled down. 

“First Aid wasn’t supposed to die,” he said clearly so both Arcee and Smokescreen could hear. “He was supposed to…be cured.” He took a step back and plopped down on a scrap of ground jutting from the flat terrain. Wordlessly, he buried his face in his hands and sighed hopelessly. 

Another emotion Arcee thought she would never see Knock Out express made itself known: shame. It was like something had been beating him up for ages and was just now surfacing. 

“Why did you think you could cure him?” Smokescreen dared. “How would you know-” 

“I just did, okay?” Knock Out retorted, his voice climbing pitch again. But, the prior aggression didn’t arise with it. “Maybe I just thought ‘hey, perhaps I could do something right for once? Maybe those ingrates back at the medbay would stop throwing slurs and spitting my way every time I entered the damned place!’” 

Was Knock Out actually trying _help_ people? Arcee wouldn’t have believed it unless she was looking at the choked and overwrought ‘bot himself like she was now. Even if it was for his own benefit, it was better than what he was known for. She wanted to say: “well, maybe if you hadn’t spent 6 million years torturing mechs, people would have an inkling of faith left in you.” But, this was clearly not the time, not when Knock Out was so vulnerable. Well, she wanted to say such things at a time like this, but she thought better of it. 

“I’m not going back,” Knock Out muttered. “ I can’t. So, if you came here to convince me to, you’re out of luck.” 

“So what,” Arcee replied. “You’re just going to sit out here and mope?” 

“Maybe,” Knock Out folded his arms on his knees. “What else is there to do out here?” 

“You can explain yourself,” Arcee walked closer to him. “Smoke and I will back you up. Ultra Magnus will understand.” No, actually, he probably wouldn’t. 

“And risk some capital punishment at the hands of the new ‘Autobot leader’,” Knock Out gestured the air quotes exaggeratedly. “I’d rather take my chances out here.” 

Even sitting down he still had a height advantage over Arcee. 

It was fairly cold and Arcee loosely wrapped her arms around herself. “Well, if you want to freeze to death, I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. C’mon, Smokescreen, were going home.” 

Smokescreen joined her as they transformed and prepared to head home. As they drove off, Arcee tilted her rear view mirrors to see Knock Out curl in on himself as another bout of wind picked up. It was like watching a stubborn sparkling who was being impossible for the sake of being impossible. 

He disappeared out of her sight. She made a mental note to bring him some Energon rations in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so happy people like this story! I didn't even go into this taking in seriously! Chapter one was a one shot since July! I'm so glad you've all humored my average writing skills and continue to give me helpful criticism and encouragement. It helps a whole lot!  
> Stay pretty and thanks again!  
> ~Cosmo


	7. Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo sorry for the wait! It's Christmas soon and I've been terribly busy! 
> 
> Also, today is my brother's birthday! Happy birthday you goober!

Arcee was summoned to the main control hub along with the rest of the still-active Autobots. Looking around, she couldn’t help but notice those who weren’t present. Bulkhead and Blaster had been admitted to the ever-crowding medbay recently, and Prowl before them. Ironhide and Wheeljack seemed to be on their way out, too. 

Standing in Blaster’s seat by the computer console, Rewind held a data pad in his arms. Eject sat on the edge of the chair while Steeljaw lay quietly at the foot of the chair. 

“Make it quick, Rewind,” Ratchet grunted as he walked to stand beside Arcee. “I’m not exactly full of free time here.” 

Rewind nodded. “Then you’ll be happy to hear that Eject and I picked up where Blaster left off,” He held the data up proudly. “And we may have found something about Perceptor’s whereabouts!” 

A tangible wave a relief swept across the room until it turned into anticipation for the next answer. “Where?” 

“The last time anyone contacted him he was somewhere between CaldoonIV and Quartex. That was over 5,000 stellarcycles ago.” 

“That’s unclaimed territory,” Smokscreen replied. “No wonder we couldn’t locate him when he was that far away.” 

“But, what if he’s left by now?” Ultra Magnus said, not looking convinced. “He could be light years away from there.” 

“Maybe, but It’s all we’ve got to go on, coach,” Eject shrugged. 

Magnus took the data pad from Rewind and examined it. The little red dot marking Perceptor’s possible location sat almost directly between the two planets Rewind had read. “This still doesn’t explain why he disconnected his hailing frequency,” he handed the data pad back. 

“Then someone should go and find out why,” Arcee interjected. “If we have anything on Perceptor, especially now, we should investigate.” 

She turned to Magnus. “Sir, with your permission, I’d like to try and find him.” 

Magnus towered over Arcee, but his intense gaze was met with Arcee’s equally intense one. “No, it’s too dangerous a trip for just one person.” 

“I’ll go with her!” Smokescreen piped up. 

Magnus looked at both of them, his expression unwavering. But, as he became more aware of just how few were left of his group dubbed “Team Prime”, he realized that his options were severely numbered. The two young ‘bots before him became better candidates to go the more he thought. 

“Alright,” he finally said. “But, I want you to find at least one more to go with you.” 

Arcee smiled. “I think I know just who to bring.” 

*** 

Knock Out woke up restlessly. He hadn’t been actually asleep and was more in a half-awake state. He had drifted off sitting on the same bit of scrap he had been earlier. He felt a little better as the sun elevated the bitter chill of last night. 

He felt like this was new low for someone like him: out in the cold and growing tired of his own pity party. He should have at least taken a couple Energon cubes before he took of. They would have served him better than his stupid staff. 

_Welp, this is what happens when you try and join the winning side,_ he thought to himself; what a great idea that had been. 

Well, considering that he would probably be long dead by now if he stayed with Starscream, this was sort of a better alternative. At least it took longer for the Autobots to kick him out than he had anticipated. Autobots, such trusting saps they were. Even the slightest hint of suspicion would get you a one-way ticket out of the Decepticon ranks. 

He took another look around and suddenly had a realization: he didn’t have a boss ‘bot to follow. Yeah, he didn’t have to worry about anyone else anymore. He could go wherever he wanted, especially with how empty Cybertron was now. Why was he sitting around here? He transformed and excitedly drove across the terrain, leaving clouds of sand in his wake. He didn’t need the Autobots or Decepticons! It was just him and the open road! 

His drive came to a screeching halt when he had to make a hard right turn to avoid the giant gaping hole just feet ahead. The Well of Allsparks. 

He sat there in vehicle mode, trying to forget that he nearly plummeted to his end down an endless pit of death. It felt like everything he had just told himself about flying solo suddenly lost its luster. 

He remembered standing at this spot when Optimus Prime dove into the Well, ending his life for the rest of Cybertron. He didn’t want to think about it, but he did anyway. He also didn’t want to wonder if Prime would have welcomed him back despite First Aid’s demise. Prime had no objections to seeing Knock Out standing with the rest before he sacrificed his life. Then again, it was kind of hard to read any emotion on that ‘bot. Prime was cryptic that way, he supposed. 

_Each of you have acted as a Prime._

Knock Out remembered how odd that had struck him when he had first heard it. What had he done other than whacking Starscream across the head and breaking The Immobilizer? Maybe the old ‘bot was just feeling sentimental because he knew he was about to be axed off? 

Knock Out hadn’t done anything to warrant the Prime’s approval. Not then and not now. This fact, for whatever reason, sucked all the fun out of being alone. 

He certainly didn’t want to wonder if Breakdown had made it to the Well, but he couldn’t help it. Breakdown was the absolute last person he wanted to think about when he was all alone like this. 

He wished he had brought something to eat. 

Knock Out sat there in vehicle mode for a couple more minutes, trying to forget about food when he heard the sound of an engine in the distance. Her made a hasty three point turn to face the oncoming ‘bot, prepared to retreat, when he recognized the blue dot rolling towards him. Oh, it was just her. 

As Arcee neared him, he noticed there were two crates of Energon strung to the seat of her vehicle mode. She eventually braked, swinging her back wheel out to make a complete stop, kicking a good amount if sand up at Knock Out in the process. 

Knock Out transformed and brushed himself of indignantly. “Don’t you know how hard it is to get sand out of my seams?” He grumbled. 

“Shut up and help me get this off,” Arcee retorted, gesturing to the crates with her mirrors. 

“Didn’t think you were one for picnics,” Knock Out sneered. 

“Yeah well, I’m not one for going out of my way to make sure you don’t die of starvation out here, either. But, here I am.” 

“Oh, aren’t you sweet.” 

Arcee’s engine huffed. “Just take them.” 

“Alright, alright.” Knock Out reached awkwardly around Arcee to carefully unlatch the bungie cords holding the crates up and set the Energon on the ground, allowing Arcee to take her robot mode. She stretched a little. “I figured you’d moved on, but I didn’t think you’d be here.” 

“I almost did a swan dive into this hole,” Knock Out quipped. “Mags should really put a sign here or something.” 

Arcee chuckled a little. “I’ll make sure to get on that.” 

Knock Out lifted the cubes off the ground. “Well…thanks for these.” 

“You’re welcome,” Arcee replied, sincerely this time. 

The Aston Martin turned towards the Well, expecting Arcee to leave. But, she didn’t. She just stood there, and Knock Out could feel her optics boring into his shoulders. 

“Don’t you have a team to get back to?” He asked, not turning to her. 

“You can’t live out here forever,” Arcee replied. “At least I’m not going to keep bringing you Energon forever.” 

“I’ve already told you why I can’t go back there.” Knock Out set down the crates at the edge of the Well. “Besides, I like it out here! Now I need to only look out for number one.” 

“But, Knock Out-” 

“Don’t ‘but Knock Out’ me! I-” 

“We found Perceptor.” 

Knock Out lost track of what he was in the middle of saying. “You did, did you?” 

“Well, we may have,” Arcee corrected herself. “Blaster’s mini-cassettes followed up on his efforts and they found his possible location.” 

“Oh,” Knock Out replied awkwardly. “Well, good for you.” 

“Smokescreen and I are leaving later today to find him,” Arcee went on. “And…we need a third.” 

Knock Out sagged a little in exaggerated annoyance. “How many times do I have to drive it into your thick helm that I’m _not_ helping you ingrates anymore?” 

“We need you Knock Out,” Arcee said, mentally kicking herself for how desperate that sounded. 

“That’s not _my_ problem!” Knock Out took a few steps towards her. 

“This is a great opportunity to clear your name!” Arcee shot back. “You’re telling me you’d rather be out here, cold and alone? I’m giving you the chance to not die out in the wilderness!” 

“And what makes you think anything will change?” Knock Out stood over her, which wasn’t very hard. “Do you honestly think that if I go on this road trip with you and that greenhorn Smokescreen and everything will just go away like it never happened? Fat chance!” 

“Well, that _will_ be the case if you do absolutely nothing!” Arcee spat, then backed our from Knock Out’s shadow. “But hey, if you like it out here so much, why don’t you just stay here and die a slower death than everyone else!” 

Arcee reassembled into vehicle mode. “I actually tried to help you twice now. But, I guess you’re pretty set on being a pain in the aft.” She raced off. 

“Fine!”Knock Out called after her, beyond frustrated. “See if I care!” He didn’t wait for her to disappear as he turned back to the Well. Angrily, he sat on the crates of Energon. He had just lost his appetite. 

“I don’t need them,” he said out loud to himself. “I’m just fine without them.” 

The yawning abyss of the Well was just a yard in front of his peds. Miles below, he could just catch the softest idle glow from the depths. It felt like it was staring at him. He felt the overbearing loneliness creep back to him, but he shook his head to push it away. Something that sat uncomfortably in his tanks told him to go back after Arcee. 

Eh, it was probably because he hadn’t eaten. 

*** 

Arcee wasn’t driving inherently fast. She just coasted along as if the previous outburst had never happened. She continued her drive until she heard a louder engine approach. Knock Out made a begrudging attempt to catch up to her. 

“I must be out of my Energon-deprived mind,” he grumbled. Arcee tried not to laugh. She couldn’t believe that had actually worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Episode of "Where in The Universe is Perceptor?" is brought to you by the second Allspark Almanac and Swndle's helpful little map of the known Transformers universe!
> 
> I just kinda chose a random spot on the map and decided it was far enough from Cybertron to be out of signature range. If you own the second Allspark Almanac, then you can judge that for yourself. I had originally had him somewhere in Quintesson territory, but that was still too close.


	8. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so so so sorry for the wait! I've been super busy with traveling and family time. Only had time for another short chapter, unfortunately.  
> Edit: turns out I made some really stupid mistakes in this one. Fixed now! c:

Knock Out couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of dread as he neared Iacon’s partially-reconstructed ruins. He lagged slightly behind Arcee, hoping it would drag out his return just a little. Lucky for him, Arcee was taking a few detours to make sure he was seen as little as possible. His anxiety only got worse as they made their way into the center of Iacon and up to the central hub. When they finally stood at the door to the hub Knock Out was still a few inches behind Arcee, as if the smaller femme could physically shield him from whatever was to come. Breakdown was exceptionally good at that kind of thing. 

The door slid open, and Knock Out instantly felt optics searing his plating again. It didn’t help that his finish wasn’t it’s best on top of it all. Ratchet wasn’t present, but Ultra Magnus was. There was no surprise in the leader’s expression, only distrust. Arcee must have told him about Knock Out’s visit, and he was quite visibly displeased. No one else said anything, and that just made it worse for Knock Out. The distain in the air was so thick he could slice it with his buzz saw. 

Arcee waltzed straight up to Magnus, looking directly into his stern gaze. “He agreed.” 

Magnus made a stiff nod at her, their bravados equally matched. “So he did.” 

He looked up at Knock Out and jerked his head to the left, silently ordering him to approach. Knock out realized that his frame had been knotted submissively, which was embarrassing. He forced himself to straighten and strolled towards Magnus. He dared not even blink as Magnus leaned down towards him. 

“Cybertron is counting on you,” Magnus growled, voice as antagonizing as his glare. 

“Best not keep them waiting, then,” Knock Out replied in his natural snide tone. He had stared down Starscream on multiple occasions, and this was no different. 

Magnus glowered at him still. “You two should get moving.” 

Arcee walked passed them. “Smokescreen’s waiting for us.” 

Knock out followed her away and finally became aware of how hard his spark was pounding. 

*** 

They arrived at the Central Iacon Spaceport. Knock Out had seen this place before. Who hadn’t? It was only one of Cybertron’s most active spaceports, or least it had been. Now it was very empty and dilapidated. The main lounge was a tall, domed, octagonal structure that, even in its run down state, was still sight to behold. Balconies from each floor loomed, supported by beams as tall as the dome. Knock Out counted 14 floors, not counting the ones that had collapsed with age and war. At each corner of the octagon, there were elegant strands of metal bent into a corkscrew shape. Each mirrored one larger version in the very center. The glass dome itself had still retained some of its colored, meticulously crafted windows. 

“Our shuttle’s at Hangar 2,” Arcee called back to Knock Out, her voice reverberating all throughout the dome as if there were ten of her. They continued on and the ceiling became significantly lower and drabber. It contrasted with the previous room so drastically that Knock Out had to remember that they were in the same building. The hangar was so dark that the two of them flipped their headlights on, only to be met with stale dust in the air. They saw natural light again from the hangar’s opening, the light silhouetting their shuttle ahead. They braked and continued on foot. Knock Out still had the crates of Energon Arcee had given him and he had one under each arm. What else was he supposed to do with them? 

Knock Out looked their means of transportation up and down. It wasn’t exactly the most dignified vessel, but it looked sturdy enough. It was small, a single-pilot, with a boxed shaped hull and two flat wings. Its simplicity showed its age, which was probably around 100 stellarcycles if Knock Out had to guess. 

Smokescreen was leaning against the shuttle, waiting for them. He regarded Knock Out with an impish grin. “I can’t believe you got him to go,” he chuckled. 

“Turns out all I had to do was say please,” Arcee replied, turning to the Aston Martin. “Along with some peace offerings.” Her eyes traveled to the crates Knock Out was holding. “Good thing you brought those, too. Those were two out of our four rations for the trip.” 

Knock Out glanced at his crates and back at Arcee. She was smiling that same smile Smokescreen had. Knock Out shot them both an indignant glance and trudged towards the ship to deposit his apparent bait into the cargo hold. He approached the hold when he nearly tripped over something about the same height as his knee. Steadying himself and the crates, he looked down to see Rewind picking himself up off the ground. Oh great, one of Blaster’s brats. Rewind didn’t look too thrilled to see Knock Out either, giving him a stiff nod before walking around him. After dropping off the crates, he rounded the ship again to see Arcee looking quizzically down at Rewind. 

“Oh, I forgot to say,” Smokescreen hastily added. “Rewind wants to come, too.” 

“For Blaster’s sake, I want to help any way I can,” Rewind said, tapping his head-mounted camera. “And the first sighting of Perceptor in ages is something that needs to be archived.” 

“I brought an extra round of rations for him,” Smokescreen added again. “Besides, it’s not like he’ll take up a lot of space.” 

Arcee looked at them both and shrugged. I guess I don’t see the harm in it.” 

Knock Out’s shoulders dropped. Just what he needed, _another_ Autobot on this road trip. Joy. 

Arcee waved a servo to the ship. “Well, let’s not waste any time. We don’t exactly have a lot of it.” 

“Shot gun!” Smokescreen chirped. 

Knock Out was the last to board the rather cramped cabin as Arcee started the old shuttle. It sputtered to a shaky start and creaked as it hovered off the ground and pushed itself forward off the hangar and into the afternoon sky. 

Knock Out watched the ground grow farther and farther away and eventually watched the atmosphere dissipate into a star-cluttered scenery. He leaned his forehead against the window. What was he getting into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still over the moon that you guys want more of this train wreck! Love you all and, again, thank you for reading!


	9. Figment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys don't this story is dead 0v0

The inside of the shuttle was about as disappointing as the outside: square, old, and small. It had a cockpit, two cabins, and a cargo hold; that was it. The second cabin had a couple recharge slabs, but was otherwise empty. The main cabin was the only section with windows, and even then the only window that really counted as a window was the windshield. 

The three bots whom were tall enough to reach the steering apparatus took shifts driving. They had been traveling for a decent amount of hours and Knock Out had recently finished his. He had since moved to sit in the passenger seat and Arcee had taken the next shift. Knock Out went back to his previous activity of idly starring out the window, watching familiar systems pass by. He half-listened to Rewind and Smokescreen’s conversation from behind him. He wasn’t interested in figuring out the subject, though, and felt himself loosing consciousness out of pure boredom. Trying not to yawn to loudly, he tried to ignore the uncomfortable form of his seat (it was better than sleeping outside, at least) and slowly fell asleep. 

_The world around Knock Out was bleary, and his limbs weighed twice their normal mass, rooting him to the spot. So he stayed put, tying to focus on what was ahead of him. The blue splotch he saw was a hulking, familiar shape and something warm and happy stirred in Knock Out’s chassis. He tried to call out to the bot, but his tongue was under the same curse as the rest of him. He didn’t have to speak, however. The mech turned and approached him at a even pace. Knock Out still couldn’t move, but that was suddenly okay with him. The figure moved closer, coming more and more into focus until only their face was intelligible. Their arms stretched towards Knock Out and he happily waited to be scooped up by his well-missed companion. But, the servos in front of him suddenly closed around his arms, making ten deep dents into the metal. Knock Out was jerked towards the bot, their face still blurry. He still couldn’t move, and his head was too heavy to turn away. Still, he tried to focus on the figure’s optics. At first there was only one, yellow optic glowing harshly amongst the burr. Then, it became a cyan half-rectangle. As it began to change again, the figure’s servos flew up to grasp Knock out’s shoulders, gripping them like they were going to tear them off. The servos were broken and torn, their jagged ends scraping painfully at the vermillion paint. The wretched thing spoke, but not with one voice. It spoke with two very different, very familiar, voices. One was filled with rage, the other soft and pleading. The words that came from its mouth were choppy with thick static:_

 _“-ou i-id -s.”_

Knock Out was rudely awakened as his frame jerked, hitting his head against the hull. He shook off the uneasy feelings of his reverie. Geez, it felt like he had fallen. 

Actually, it felt like he was still falling. 

His surroundings became clearer when he felt the shuttle make a nauseating dip and bob. He twisted his body around his seat to see Smokescreen and Rewind braced to theirs. The shuttle veered to the left and then dragged to the right. It was as if the ship was being jerked like a marionette on uneven strings. Knock Out almost made a humorous snort. He wouldn’t have guessed Arcee was _that_ bad of a flier. 

He glanced Arcee’s way to see her fighting to keep control of the wheel. She noticed him staring at her and shot him an irritated and high-strung glare. “I told you to hold onto something!” she grunted, wrestling the ship out of its near-capsized position. Knock Out blinked out of his daze as he realized what was happening. The way the shuttle insisted on twisting to the left gave the indication that their right wing had been damaged. Badly. 

“What did you _do_?” Was the first thing Knock Out could think to blurt out. 

“Something hit us!” Smokescreen replied over the blaring proximity alarm. They were rapidly approaching a lone mass of rock ahead. 

“What ‘something’?” Knock Out switched sides on his seat to see out the opposite side of the windshield. He couldn’t make out the damage, but he could definitely see smoke. 

“A big ‘something’!” Rewind said, trying to not be thrown out of his seat by his miniscule weight. 

“ _Obviously,_ ” Knock Out retorted before the ship jerked again and slammed his head against the hull a second time. 

“Let’s talk about this when we’re on that ground, maybe?” Arcee barked and yanked the ship into momentary stability again. The rocky form continued to rise to meet them. 

“You’re landing on that!?” Knock Out protested, gripping the dashboard in front of him. 

“Do you see anywhere else to land!?” the ship spun in the wrong direction and Arcee pulled at it. 

Knock Out’s pointed servos dug into the dash. “Do you even know where we are? Or what that is?” 

Arcee didn’t reply and focused on landing. Knock Out watched in apparent horror for a few more seconds before lunging forward in an attempt to take the wheel. 

“Hey!” Arcee shouted and tried to elbow him away, but Knock Out still reached to turn the shuttle away. “Are you trying to kill us!?” 

“Are _you_ trying to kill us!?” Knock Out cried exasperatedly, making another grab for the wheel. The meteor-like surface was only feet below them and Arcee tried to keep the ship straight just long enough to make a decent landing. Knock Out swiped at her one last time before Arcee pulled her ped from under the dash and kicked him into the other side of the cockpit. 

“Listen to me!” Knock Out shouted, his voice stooping to pleading. “You see a patch of discolored gravel on that meteor, right?” 

“Uh, yeah?” Arcee replied unsurely. 

“Land there! Land there if you’re still interested in finding Perceptor!” 

Arcee forced the wheel to stay in one place as they dropped towards the smear of tan gravel amongst the grey. The shuttle made an unsteady landing on the rock, grinding into the rough terrain. It came to rest on its side, supported by the still-intact wing. 

Arcee propped herself up on one arm and worked her way into a somewhat comfortable temporary spot. “Everyone okay?” 

Rewind had lost his hold on his seat’s armrest and was crumpled belly-up between the hull and the seat. “I’m good.” he raised one of his legs that were still on the seat. 

Smokescreen was still halfway in his seat, holding himself up against Rewind’s armrest. “Fine.” 

Knock Out was in an upside down pose against the wall, head on the seat and legs over his head. “Ow.” 

“Okay.” Arcee stepped over the center console to reach back and help Rewind up. “We’d better go see what happened to the wing.” “Wait!” Knock Out tumbled out of his upturned tangle. “You may not know where we are, but I do.” 

“Your point being?” Rewind replied. 

“My point is that we need to stay here,” Knock Out shot a sidelong glare at Rewind, who was happy to reciprocate. “Whatever happened to our wing was no accident.” 

“Nothing else is out here,” Arcee extended a hand to help Knock Out to his feet, but he refused. “Nothing but the rock we’re on.” 

“And if we step out onto this rock, we die!” Knock Out stood up. 

“What’s out there to kill us?” Smokescreen asked, scrutinizing the outside for any sign of danger. “Pebbles?” 

“You can’t see them,” Knock Out joined him in watching the window. “But, they’re here. I know it.” 

“You’re saying they’re invisible?” Rewind’s voice was low with confusion. Knock Out caught onto how silly he was sounding. 

“To an extent, yes.” 

Rewind’s visor ridges scrunched. “How long were you out in the desert?” 

Knock Out scowled down at the mini-cassette. “How long have you been a nosy pipsqueak-?” 

“Enough,” Arcee interrupted, pushing past them. “We’re not any closer to Perceptor and we need that wing fixed.” She headed to the exit when Knock Out suddenly grabbed her shoulder. When she rounded on him, he removed his servo like she had set it on fire. 

“You cannot go out there,” Knock Out said evenly. “…I need to go.” 

Arcee cocked her head. “You? Why would you have a better chance?” 

Knock Out opened his mouth and closed it a few times before finding the right answer. “You’re just going to have to trust me.” 

Arcee stared at him and sighed. “I’ve had to do that a lot lately, haven’t I?” 

Knock Out came to stand on the edge of the ship’s exit. He turned to the bots watching him. “Listen. When I leave this gravel, don’t follow me. No matter what you see, stay put.” 

After getting a confirming nod from each Autobot, Knock Out slowly turned away and took a slow step towards the grey gravel. When his ped met ground, it disappeared. He looked back at his fellows. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the disbelief and befuddlement on their faces. Taking a deep breath, he walked himself into the void and completely vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't thank you all enough for reading! I hope you all have a fantastic day and I hope your holidays were great!


	10. Freunde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let's talk Deutsch for a sec!  
> Edit: I was recently informed that I used a few German phrases incorrectly. They're fixed now! :)
> 
> Freund(e) = Friend(s)  
> Rot = Red  
> So eine Schande = What a shame  
> Hornochse = idiot/blockhead  
> Das geht klar = That's okay  
> Mit Verlaub = Excuse me
> 
> If you thought I, as a German student, wouldn't leap at the chance to take advantage of the one time Knock Out said "Herr Kommandant", you thought wrong! (I could listen to that sound byte all day)  
> I just really like German.
> 
> Anyway, long chapter this time! You guy's deserve it after being so patient with me and the last few tiny chapters I've posted lately.

Knock Out had been lucky to set foot on actual ground. The environment before him was cluttered with obsolete trinkets and spare parts. He stepped carefully around the minefield of junk, knowing full well that the owner had an obtuse organizing system. He didn’t want to repeat the events of the last time he accidentally tripped over a stray piston. 

“Hey, anyone he-” he ducked under a broken metal beam just below his chin. “Anyone here?” 

He heard light skittering from somewhere amongst the scrap. He continued with even more caution. “Hello?” 

“BAH!” a small, spindly mech dropped from the ceiling mere centimeters from Knock Out’s face. Knock Out drew back and yelped as one of its legs almost made a good slit in his cheek. 

The insect-like bot burst into wheezing, harsh laughter that sounded more like coughing. It rocked back and forth on the suspended object he was hanging from. “Knock Out, _mein roter Freund!_ You fall for that every time!” 

Knock Out steadied himself from nearly falling into a pile of tiny, extremely sharp-looking bits of metal. “I see you’re just as fluent in people skills as ever, Scalpel.” 

Scalpel hacked another fit of laughter and dropped to the floor. Barely scraping the ground he found a small desk in the center of the mess and waited for Knock Out to catch up. “Business looks good.” 

“Ever since the Autobots called everyone back, we’ve been swamped with customers! The boys have been working double time just for one day’s haul!” 

“Yeah, I saw,” Knock Out came to stand in a tiny patch of floor in front of the desk. “In fact, I’ve witnessed it first hand.” 

“Wait…that was you we caught?” Scalpel stabbed the desk with one leg and laughed. “What did you do? Fall asleep at the wheel?” 

“Something like that,” Knock Out shrugged. “Anyhow, your goons took out my right wing, which means you owe me some repairs.” 

“Perhaps you should be careful where you fly,” Scalpel wheezed. “But for you, I give discount, yeah? How’s 800 shanix?” 

Knock Out leaned on the counter. “Always the generous one you are.” 

Scalpel skittered across the desk and snatched the shanix out of Knock Out’s servos as soon as the Aston Martin presented them. 

“Oh, come on. This isn’t the worst I’ve charged for you,” Scalpel stuffed the shanix into a divot in the counter. “If your counterpart, Breakdown, were here I would have had to charge you for all the stuff he would have broken.” Scalpel craned his body to see around Knock Out. “Say, where is that blue _Hornochse?_ ” 

“He died,” Knock Out said, dismissively. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Oh?” Scalpel muttered, scurrying past Knock Out to another pile. _“So eine Schande._ Have you found a new one, yet?” 

“No, I’ve actually been flying solo these past cycles.” 

“Knock Out? A lone turbowolf? Now I’ve heard everything,” Scalpel stamped the shanix farther into the desk. “Now, what can I get you?” 

*** 

Scalpel’s cohorts were larger than him, but were equally disturbing to look upon. They had numerous limbs, each equipped with something sharp, jagged, mangled, or any combination of the three. But, if Knock Out knew anything about them, they were amazingly skilled in small-scale repairs. He also wasn’t surprised to find that Scalpel had the exact type of wing bits for the shuttle. He had been in business a long time. 

Knock Out followed the ornery bots out of the void to the shuttle. He waited for them to pass, then ducked to the other side of the ship. “Arcee?” he whispered to his commlink. “Please tell me you all haven’t moved.” 

“We’re still here,” Arcee’s voice crackled through the comm. “And, whatever trick you just pulled, we want answers.” 

“Be patient,” Knock Out hissed. “And stay down. You aren’t among friends here.” 

“What is it?” Arcee’s voice was hushed. “Are you alright out th-” 

_“Mein roter Freund!”_ Scalpel’s nails-on-glass voice rang from behind him. Knock Out whipped around to face him. The bot of knives was perched on the shoulder of a larger, though less sharp, mech. “You remember Chop Shop, don’t you?” 

Chop Shop eyed Knock Out with a glare to rival the likes of Ultra Magnus; he even had two ridiculous audial-mounts to boot. Other miss-matched items stuck out from every inch of hi body, obviously stolen from other bots. 

“You’ve had a few ‘upgrades’ since I last saw you,” Knock Out scoffed. “Can’t even be bothered to paint them, eh?” 

Chop Shop growled, “Scalpel’s been tellin’ me about ol’ Breakdown, which means he won’t be here to fix your paint after I peel it offa ya.” 

“Temper, temper, Chop,” Scalpel sang. “We don’t threaten customers.” 

“He already paid,” Chop Shop grumbled. 

“Yes, but he’s our guest,” Scalpel made a nimble jump to Knock Out’s shoulder, somehow managing to not scrape him. “And threats of mutilation won’t fix his craft. So I suggest you be on your way and let us talk.” 

Chop Shop shot Knock Out one final death glare before lumbering off. 

“So,” Scalpel skittered down Knock Out’s arm and Knock Out held out his hand for the small bot to stand on. “Tell me about serving on the Nemesis. I trust Megatron treated you well.” 

Knock Out shrugged. “Earth was fine. It would have been better without those fleshy…things running around.” 

“Fleshy things?” Scalpel’s optics brightened. “Ooh, did you bring any with you? I’ve never had the chance to dissect a…what do you call them?” 

“Their media suggests they go by ‘earthlings’,” Knock Out replied. “It’s catchy but too proud a name for their squishy, bony structure. And no, I neglected to bottle up any.” 

“Too bad,” Scalpel scratched a many-toothed leg across the adjacent leg. “You make them sound boring anyway.” 

Scalpel was about to go on when one of his drones appeared from the port side of the ship. “Hey, boss. You might wanna see this.” 

Scalpel wheezed a huff. “This had better be important. For your sake.” He waved a little to Knock Out. _“Mit Verlaub.”_

_“Das geht klar,”_ Knock Out replied, but followed Scalpel around the ship anyway. 

Wait, he was forgetting something… 

When they arrived at the port side, the other drones and Chop Shop were standing around a large Autobot symbol emblazoned on the side. 

Oh, right. 

“You wanna explain this, big shoulders?” Chop Shop snarled, trudging over to loom dangerously above Knock Out. Knock Out leaned away in response. Setting aside the many pilfered weapons he was decorated with, Chop Shop smelled pretty awful. 

“Uh…” Knock Out cleared his vocalizer and tried again. “Well, if you must know…” This was going to be a stretch. “I took it.” 

“You took it,” Chop Shop echoed flatly. “You stole an Autobot ship. By yourself.” 

Knock Out nodded curtly. “Surprised?” 

Chop Shop’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t buying it. 

“Quite surprised!” Scalpel chirped, appearing on Chop Shop’s shoulder. “See, Chop Shop? Our rot Freund isn’t as helpless on his own as you think.” He scraped two legs together. “Well done!” 

“Oh, it wasn’t much of a chore,” Knock Out chuckled. “Most of Cybertron is bedridden. I was gone before they even had the strength to notice.” 

“Bedridden, you say?” Scalpel wheezed. “All of Cybertron?” 

“The few that are there are piled up in heaps,” Knock Out sneered, but something else flickered across his faceplates. “And it’s spreading fast.” 

“Marvelous!” Scalpel hacked. “You have to tell me more, but I must speak with dear Chop Shop for a minute.” 

“I can wait,” Knock Out responded and Chop Shop turned away. As they left, Scalpel leaned to Chop Shop’s audial. “Search the ship.” 

Chop Shop nodded. “I was hoping you’d say that.” The miss-matched mech waved a few drones over and Scalpel bounced back to Knock Out. 

*** 

“What is taking him so long?” Smokescreen muttered. He, Rewind, and Arcee were sitting on the cabin’s floor. “My legs are falling asleep.” 

“Are you sure he knows what he’s doing?” Rewind asked Arcee, visibly skeptical. 

Arcee sighed. “No, not really. But, he knew about the crazy invisible wall. He must be doing something right.” 

“But, what if he’s handing us over to those… those pointy guys out there? He seems like pretty good friends with them,” Rewind retorted. 

Arcee attempted to reply, but shut her mouth and thought about what Rewind was saying. 

“If that’s what Knock Out’s gonna do, why hasn’t he done it by now?” Smokescreen asked. “He’s been out there for a while. It doesn’t take long to say: ‘hey, I’ve got three Autobots hiding in my ship! Come and get ‘em!’” 

Rewind was about to reply when he heard the shuttle’s door slide open. They all fell quiet. The footsteps they heard were too heavy to be Knock Out’s. 

“I knew it,” Rewind said almost inaudibly. Arcee waved her hand o shush him and bared her hand blasters. Smokescreen readied his weapons as well. Arcee tiptoed to the cabin entrance and pressed her back to the wall. Smokescreen backed into the cockpit, Rewind behind him. 

The footsteps came closer, followed by more, smaller steps. Arcee peaked around the doorway and just barely met two sickly yellow optics. She shrunk back, stayed still for another second, and then sprung around the doorway, her blaster aimed between Chop Shop’s optics. 

*** 

“So, is it true?” Scalpel’s large, spectacled eyes grew. “Cybertron is nearly defenseless?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Knock Out shrugged. “But, a good deal of them are confined to the medbay indefinitely.” 

“Are they looking...bluer than usual?” Scalpel’s voice was filled with excitement. 

Knock Out tried not to make eye contact with the scraggly thing. “Now that you mention it, they do.” 

“Ha-ha!” Scalpel leapt into the air. “Wonderful! It’s all going just as I planned!” 

Knock Out tilted his helm. “Planned?” 

“Yes! I-” Scalpel was interrupted again when a flurry of gunfire erupted from the stern side of the shuttle. “Oh, what is it now?” Scalpel grumbled, bounding towards the commotion. Knock Out was close behind. As they went, Knock Out caught eye of the wing. It looked better than before. It had better be good enough to get them off the ground. A swift retreat was in their near future. 

A drone was flung out of the shuttle, followed by a few more. Knock Out stood back as he saw Arcee and Smokescreen driving the rest of the search party backward. Arcee had switched form her blaster to her blades and was locked into combat with two drones, each taking swings at her with their assorted sharp bits. Smokescreen, only armed with blasters, alternated between shooting and whacking drones. Knock Out noticed Scalpel watching the tussle. He almost cringed when the tiny mangle of blades turned to him. “ _Freunde_ of yours?” he asked, his voice strangely casual. 

“You searched my ship?” was all Knock Out could think to reply. 

“Oh please,” Scalpel coughed. “Did you really expect me to believe you stole an Autobot ship on your own? You wouldn’t risk scuffing your finish even if it meant saving your life.” He turned back to the gunfight. “Or, should I say ‘your partner’s life’?” 

Scalpel didn’t have too much time to enjoy his retort before he was crushed by Knock Out’s ped. Knock Out headed towards the drones, buzz saw revving. He breezed by a few drones in his way, hacking at them agilely. But, he wasn’t as interested in dismembering them as he was trying to escape. These weren’t Scalpel’s only henchmen and they would be swarmed before long. 

Arcee saw Knock Out charging to them, ducking, weaving, and slicing through drones. Their optics locked briefly as they lessened the amount of drones between them. Finally, they were in front of each other and the drones were backed far enough out to allow the door to retract. Scraping and slicing could be heard against the hull. 

Knock Out suddenly tripped over something in the dark of the shuttle. It had faulty interior lighting, after all. Whatever he had tripped on was large and odd ended. Knock Out frantically searched the floor, dreading what, or who, he would find. He shouted when he realized that Chop Shop was sprawled on the floor. The large bot wasn’t moving. In fact, Knock Out could smell residual plasma in the dank air. Oh, no. _Oooooh, no._

“Arcee,” Knock Out squeaked. 

“Not the time!” Arcee called back, hurriedly starting the ship. 

“Arcee!” Knock Out shouted again. “Do you know who’s lying offline I our ship!?” 

There was no answer as the ship teetered off the ground. It still leaned on the broken wing’s side, but it wasn’t as bad as before. Knock Out scrambled to the cabin. “We’re dead, we’re dead. Oh, we are so dead!” 

The shuttle took off shakily. Knock Out’s claws dug into the back of Arcee’s seat. The shuttle flew for a solid minute without any interruption, which wound Knock Out even tighter. 

A flurry of shots whizzed past them. Ah, there they were. 

The dip and bobbing started again as they tried to outrun the smaller shuttles on their tail. 

“Keep going for about 20 more minutes,” Knock Out said suddenly. 

“What?” Arcee shouted, stiff with alert. 

“Their ships are ranged. They can’t give chaise for long,” Knock Out explained. “Just keep going!” 

“That was the plan before!” Arcee answered before pushing the wheel even more towards the windshield. 

One shuttle creeped up along side them. Rewind ducked from the window. “Guys, they’re getting clos-ack!” Rewind was cut off when something snatched him right out of his seat. 

“Rewind!” Smokescreen yelped, grabbing for the minibot, but grasped air. A large servo then closed tightly around Smokescreen’s throat, yanking him out of the chair. Both mechs were brought to face a ragged and livid Chop Shop, bleeding profusely from the forehead. “Which one-a you landed plasma in my face?” 

Knock Out and Arcee looked back to see Chop Shop dragging himself towards them. Smokescreen gasped and tried to pry at the mech’s digits. Chop Shop held Rewind by the head, squeezing. Arcee lept out of the driver’s seat, shoving Knock Out into her place. “Drive!” She ordered. Knock Out gathered himself and continued the shuttle’s beeline. 

Arcee wasted no time taking aim. Chop Shop tightened his grip on the bots he held. “Shoot,” he slurred, dizzy with loss of Energon. “And the li’ll guy looses his head.” 

Smokescreen’s blasters hand unsheathed upon reflex and he directed his left one to Chop Shop abdomen. He fired and Chop Shop cried out, dropping both him and Rewind. Arcee lunged forward and pushed Chop Shop back on his wobbly peds. Chop Shop could barely keep his head up as he received blows from the smaller femme. She worked him towards the door. 

“Knock Out!” Arcee shouted. “Open the door!” 

Knock Out’s adrenaline-seized servos mashed the door release button. Smokescreen grabbed Rewind’s frame and Arcee’s ankle as the door opened and became a violent vacuum. Chop Shop was wrenched out of the ship and Knock Out quickly shut the door. Arcee, Smokescreen, and Rewind collapsed as the air became normal. They passed Scalpel’s drone’s range. The shuttle still went at full speed for quite some time until Knock Out was sure they were in the clear. He let the shuttle cruise on its own and went to where the others were still crashed. All four bots were still venting hard, to dazed to say anything. 

Arcee had pulled herself up to a sitting position and was cradling her head in one hand. Smokescreen uncurled around Rewind and released his death grip on Arcee’s leg. The three Autobots exchanged looks of relief to one another. 

Knock Out caught his breath. “We’re safe. They won’t reach us from here.” 

Arcee nodded loosely. “Good,” she breathed. She tried to pull herself up, but her legs hadn’t recovered. Before he thought better of it, Knock Out extended a hand to her. Arcee looked at it for a second, then took it. Knock Out pulled her up and helped Smokescreen, who in turn set Rewind right side up. They slumped back into their seats, Knock Out resuming his place at the wheel. Arcee sunk into the passenger seat, letting something like a hysterical laugh escape her vocalizer. 

“You alright?” Knock Out ventured. Arcee nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just great.” 

Knock Out stifled a chuckle, though he wasn’t in much of a better state than her. Arcee lulled in and out of consciousness. Rewind and Smokescreen appeared to be on their way out, too. 

“Knock Out?” Arcee murmured. 

“Yes?” 

“Who where those guys?” she asked. Knock Out searched for an answer. 

“Just…just some guys I used to know.” 

“Oh,” Arcee replied and went quiet. Knock Out was beginning to think she had fallen asleep when she spoke again, quieter. 

“Thank you.” 

Knock Out gave her a surprised glance, but her head was turned away from him. He cleared hid throat. “You’re welcome.” 

He turned his eyes back to the space ahead, taking in the peace that had descended upon the cabin. He smiled a little, leaning back in his chair. But, just as he was almost relaxed, a thought crossed his mind. 

Just as he’s planned?


	11. Film

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> It's been too long, I know. 2nd Semester has really been cluttered. I'm in a writing class and the assignments have been pretty time consuming, not to mention that I have to grind out a piece of artwork every week on my own time for AP art. Couple that with some mean writer's block and you have the reason why I haven't updated in over a week.  
> BUT, rest assured, I WILL finish this story! I enjoy writing it and the last thing I want to do is abandon it. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for being so patient! Enjoy!

Ratchet pushed open the clinic’s back entrance and stepped outside. He fully-extended the door to try and let in fresh air. The air inside had grown so stagnant and still that it was only making the epidemic inside worse. 

Ratchet filled his vents with clean atmosphere and caught himself on the door. He hadn’t slept at all, but he would be damned if he let himself become less efficient due to fatigue. He leaned a little on the door. _Just a quick rest_ , he thought. 

Ratchet was suddenly set on high alert when he heard something like wings unevenly beating above. His head shot up, too fast for his exhausted processor to calculate, making his vision swim momentarily. When he refocused, his fear of what was approaching had been true. 

Predaking. 

No, no not Predaking. Not now of all times! 

Ratchet whipped out his weapons and stood on the defensive. He put himself between the medbay and the dragon-like devil as the Predacon lighted n the ground just feet away. Predaking, however, showed no signs of aggression. His wings were back, his body subdued, and his head low. Still, he was treading fast towards Ratchet. 

Ratchet waited, weapons still bared, until he saw Predaking carrying something large in his great jaws. Finally, Predaking stopped in front of Ratchet and carefully set down his cargo. He then took his robot form and gathered up the other, smaller Predacon in his arms. Though begrudgingly so, Predaking’s sallow eyes looked directly into Ratchet’s. 

“Medic,” the dragon rumbled. “I do not wish to harm you.” And when Ratchet took in Predaking’s resigned, flat voice, he knew it was true. 

Ratchet retracted his blades and slowly, carefully approached Predaking and his unconscious friend. Predaking did nothing to stop him, but still eyed him closely. He watched quietly as Ratchet looked the unnamed Predacon over. 

The disease wreaking havoc in the bodies of Cybertronians was not picky when it came to animalistic bots, apparently. This one wasn’t too far-gone, but he was getting bad. Blue welts spotted his helm and were streaked across his back and chest. Ratchet made a humming noise as he sized up the wounds. 

Predaking’s vents hissed a small sigh, but it came out like a frustrated grunt. 

“There are others,” he growled. 

Ratchet nodded. Of course there were. 

The unnamed Predacon made an uncomfortable noise and Predaking shifted his grasp. This close, Ratchet couldn’t mistake the concern and fear in Predaking’s eyes. 

“You will help them,” Predaking hissed, clearly not giving Ratchet the option not to. 

Ratchet gave another nod. “Bring him in.” 

*** 

Arcee woke up to find herself lying on her side in the passenger’s seat, facing the wall. Scrap, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep. That was embarrassing. 

She sat up in her seat and looked out the windshield. Everything was still calm and quiet with no signs of being pursued. She turned her gaze in the other direction and found Knock Out still at the helm of the shuttle. His optics flickered towards her and back, then focused again on her. 

“Oh!” Knock Out spoke. “Good morning.” 

Arcee tried to rub the crick out of her neck. “Morning?” 

“Well, according to Rewind, we’ve been flying for over twelve megacycles,” Knock Out replied. “So, yes, I believe it’s morning.” 

“Mm,” Arcee affirmed, giving her head a swift twist and rolling her shoulders. 

Geez, that seat was uncomfortable. 

As the events of what could be considered as “last night” reoccurred to her, she looked back around the seat to assure herself that Rewind and Smokescreen were still unharmed. Rewind was leaning back in his chair, seemingly staring off into space. Smokescreen was nowhere to be found. Despite Rewind’s empty gaze, he apparently noticed Arcee searching the cabin with her optics. 

“Smokescreen went to go get some Energon,” he mumbled. 

Smokescreen reappeared almost immediately, holding two cubes of Energon in each servo. He tossed one to Rewind and dropped two on the center console between Knock Out and Arcee. 

“Find anything yet?” Smokescreen asked Rewind. 

“Nope,” Rewind replied absently, sliding his mask open and popping a chunk of Energon into the opening. 

“Find?” Arcee turned her frame in her seat into a more comfortable position to see Smokescreen. 

“Rewind’s looking through his database to figure out who that guy with the scrap all over him was,” Smokescreen answered, taking a bite of his breakfast. 

“And I’ve _already_ told them that his name is Chop Shop,” Knock Out added. “He’s a brutish kleptomaniac who doesn’t know when to let go of a grudge.” 

“And Scalpel’s a psychopathic surgeon with more knives than personality,” Smokescreen continued, repeating what Knock Out had told them only twenty minutes ago. 

“That’s all he’ll tell us,” Rewind muttered, gaze still blindly cast at the chair in front of him. 

“Because nothing else about them matters,” Knock Out snapped. “They’ll never be able to catch us from this far out. They can’t cause any damage outside their range. Done deal.” 

“There isn’t much information about them,” Rewind said, ignoring Knock Out. “Looks like they left Cybertron a few months into the war. That’s where any records of them stop.” 

“So, they’ve just been on that asteroid for millions of years snatching up passing ships?” Smokescreen asked. 

“Pretty much,” Rewind replied, blinking back into reality. 

“Good to know,” Knock Out cut in, irritation creeping into his voice. “You can tell Ultra Magnus all about it when you get back.” 

Rewind’s visor flashed with equal irritation. The cabin grew awkwardly quiet. After a solid minute, Smokescreen shuffled at little in his seat. “So, when we do find Perceptor, what’s the plan after that?” 

Arcee realized that both Smokescreen and Rewind were looking at her for an answer. Knock Out didn’t take he optics off their flight path. 

“We’ll bring him back to Cybertron,” Arcee answered. “He and Ratchet will know what to do then.” 

“Well, I was just thinking,” Smokescreen went on. “What if he doesn’t come back with us?” 

“He will,” Arcee replied solidly. “But, what if he _doesn’t_?” Smokescreen asked again. “What if he can’t help? What if we don’t even find him?” 

“We _will_ find him,” Arcee repeated. “We don’t have another choice.” 

Arcee’s gaze dared Smokescreen to argue, which he didn’t attempt. Her optics then softened a little. “We’ll deal with what ifs when we get to them.” 

Smokescreen tore his optics away from Arcee’s and absently looked out the window. Rewind had his head turned to the opposite window. 

“I wonder how many of them are left,” Rewind said quietly, his concern for Blaster and fellow mini-cassettes obvious. Arcee didn’t have time to feel any sympathy for him before Knock Out leaned back exasperatedly in the driver’s seat, sighing loudly. 

“Can we _please_ talk about something other than impending trauma?” 

Rewind went rigid with distain for Knock Out’s apathy, but decided to say nothing. Really, what else should he have expected? 

A puff of air hissed out of Arcee’s vents. The aggravation lacing Knock Out’s EM field was hard to ignore, especially when she was sitting right next to him. It was also pretty conspicuous that Knock Out was tired, obviously from being the only one awake to drive for the past few hours. While it was admittedly touching that Knock Out had stayed the course during the other three bots’ unconsciousness, he wasn’t a pleasure to be around at the moment. 

Well, even less of a pleasure than usual. 

Arcee turned her head back to Smokescreen and he caught her glance. “Wanna take the wheel for a bit?” she asked. Smokescreen glanced quickly at Knock Out, nodded, and got up from his seat. As if on cue, Knock Out immediately relieved himself from driving duty and switched seats with Smokescreen. Things were all well and good for a second before Rewind looked up and locked an annoyed gaze with the Aston Martin beside him. 

“Hey, Arcee, mind if I switch with you, too?” Rewind requested, meeting her optics with a “get me away from him” gaze. Arcee got up and moved to Rewind’s previous seat, allowing Rewind to happily climb into the passenger seat. 

Awkward silence descended again until Smokescreen thankfully broke it. 

“So, Rewind, got any music?” 

“Music?” Rewind echoed. “Um, I think I have some of Blaster’s Ragnarök and Roll recorded somewhere.” 

“Do _not,_ ” Knock Out growled, leaning back and pinching the area between his eyes. 

“Aright, _alright_ ,” Rewind groaned. “I don’t think I have anything else.” 

Smokescreen shrugged. “I kinda wish I had saved some music from Earth,” he mused. “They had some pretty good stuff. I should have swiped a few of Bulkhead’s Slash Monkey CDs from Miko for the trip.” 

“What’s a Slash Monkey?” Rewind asked, his visor furrowing a little. “And what’s a Miko?” 

“We didn’t tell you about our Earth friends?” Smokescreen said. “Aw, you’d love them! Miko was one of them. The other two were named Jack and Raf. They were the best!” 

“You knew some Earth beings?” Rewind breathed. “But, aren’t they tiny? How’d you make sure they didn’t…y’ know…?” 

“Get squished?” Smokescreen finished. “You get used to watching where your peds go.” 

Rewind reflexively lifted his peds off the floor. “I see.” 

Smokescreen shrugged happily. “Yeah. Anyway, humans have all kinds of stuff. They make pretty good movies, too! Jack brought some to the base sometimes. A few times we went to the Drive-In Theater in town.” 

Knock Out’s scoffed. “Lucky for you, Breakdown or I never saw you there.” 

Arcee shot him a mock-surprised glance. “I can’t imagine Megatron letting you two off to take part in human commodities.” 

“That’s because he never knew,” Knock Out replied. “Megs was always too busy and Vehicons aren’t suspicious types.” He chuckled a little. “Breakdown could never get enough of those ‘creature features’.” 

“Bulkhead and Bumblebee liked those, too,” Smokescreen added. “Arcee even went with us to a movie once.” 

“Only once?” Knock Out smirked. 

Arcee shrugged indignantly. “Bee wouldn’t stop asking.” 

“Come on,” Smokescreen chided jokingly. “It was a good movie!” 

“What was it called?” Rewind asked. 

“Guardians on the Galaxy,” Arcee responded. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

“Oh please, you know you loved it!” Smokescreen laughed. “It was the last movie we saw before-nngh…” 

Smokescreen’s sentence trained off as he raised a servo to his neck. Concern grew as he fell silent for longer than expected. 

“Smokescreen?” Arcee said, receiving no response. “Smoke?” 

Smokescreen didn’t reply, clawing at one spot on his throat cables. Arcee reached out and clasped his shoulder. “Smokescreen!” 

“Huh-what?” Smokescreen jolted, his hand still glued to his neck. 

“Are you okay?” Arcee asked, letting go of his shoulder. Smokescreen nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I just gotta…” The blue sports car’s speech became thick and he swayed a little in his seat. He clumsily managed to stop the shuttle in mid flight before catching himself on the dashboard. His vents sounded clogged and sticky. “My glossa feel’s heavy.” 

Arcee was on her feet in a klik, bracing both servos on his shoulders. She glanced at Rewind and did a double take when she noticed that the smaller ‘bot was doubled over himself. Knock Out was alerted too at this point, medic instincts drawing him to have a look at Rewind. 

Arcee had shifted Smokescreen to lean back and the younger bot wheezed sickly, mouth handing open. Knock Out set Rewind in a similar position. The mini-cassette had already passed out. 

“This ship has a first aid kit, right?” Knock Out asked hurriedly. Arcee nodded. 

“Bring it here,” Knock Out ordered, and Arcee was swift to respond. Knock Out shifted to tend to Smokescreen, gently examining his throat cables. When he eased Smokescreen forward to look at the back of hi neck, he saw it: a dark smear of cobalt splotched across the cables. But, to Knock Out’s ever-growing dread, he saw something else. 

He saw a solid, round object buried into the welt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna throw in real quick that I'm glad Ao3 kept the umlaut in Ragnarök. It's the little things :)


	12. Frustrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not giving up on this story!

The two vacant recharge slabs in the shuttle served a purpose now. One was tilted forward to allow Smokescreen to vent easier, though not to much improvement. Rewind lay limp on the other. 

Both were still alive. There was at least some good news. 

Knock Out retrieved a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit and tried ever so gently to dislodge the small object embedded in Smokescreen’s throat. 

Luckily, it popped out with little effort on Knock Out’s part. The object was no bigger than the tweezers and was about as long as the tip of Knock Out’s thumb. He let it rest in a glass container and went on to look Rewind over. An identical pin-like object was lodged in Rewind’s helm. Growing around it was a blemish of imitation Cosmic Rust. He sealed both objects in the container. 

There was probably more internal damage, Knock Out was certain there was, but he didn’t have the tools to look any further. 

Arcee stood quietly in the room, watching all three mechs like a hawk. She spoke up after both obstructions had been removed. 

“What are those?” 

Knock Out brought the container up to his face, studying it. There wasn’t anything odd about them. They were just small, cone shaped pins. But, looking closer, he noticed that each had four seams near the middle. They were all popped open. Knock Out knew only one person who could execute engineering on so small a scale. 

“These are why Smokescreen is choking out garbled static,” Knock Out finally replied. “They didn’t give Rewind any help, either.” 

Arcee approached and tried to get a good look at the pins, but Knock Out pulled them away and promptly dropped them into the waste bin, the waste bin combusting them on the spot. 

“Those don’t matter,” Knock Out said before Arcee could speak. “What matters is getting these two back to Cybertron for better treatment.” 

Arcee reeled back. “What? Back to Cybertron?” 

Knock Out shot her an exasperated look. “Where else are we supposed to take them?” 

“But, if we backtrack now,” Arcee replied, “We might loose Perceptor.” 

“Perceptor could be _anywhere_!” Knock Out rebutted. “We could be chasing that one signal from all those stellarcycles ago forever!” 

“At least it’s something!” Arcee growled. “If we don’t find him, everyone on Cybertron is doomed to a slow death!” 

“And what if _we_ die?” Knock Out made sweeping gesture two all four of them. “Smokescreen and Rewind have a shorter chance of survival here than on Cybertron. And when they die, what will happen to us? This ship will become a plague ship!” He took a confident step towards her. “Is that what you want? Do you want us all to die out here in space?” 

Arcee landed a swift strike to Knock Out’s face with her knuckles. He had no time to recover as Arcee struck him again, this time with her foot. With her opposite foot, she pinned Knock Out to the wall. Her optics were cold and livid. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but removed her ped from his chest instead, letting Knock Out down. Knock Out said nothing as Arcee turned her back to him, focusing her attention to the two ill ‘bots. The only sound in the room was Smokescreen’s labored venting. 

Knock Out watched as Arcee stood silently between the two recharge slabs and looked from Smokescreen to Rewind and back again. Her face was drained of any of her previous spite and just looked…blank. Knock Out felt as if he would invoke her wrath again if he so much as processed thought incorrectly. 

“I don’t know,” Arcee muttered. 

“What?’ Knock Out asked before he could stop himself. 

Arcee turned to him, her eyes hard, but not as hard as before. 

“I said I don’t know.” 

Knock Out looked away. “Oh.” 

Arcee turned to the others again, staring blankly at the wall. 

Both she and Knock Out jumped when Smokescreen twitched a little. His arm moved in a slow, shaky motion as he stretched his digits upwards towards Arcee. 

“Arcee…” 

Arcee grabbed Smokescreens servo and gently pushed his arm back down. “Don’t move,” she said in a soft tone. “Take it easy.” 

Smokescreen wrenched open his optics and found Arcee. He tried to speak, but all that came out was an unpleasant gurgle. 

“Go back to sleep,” Arcee said, letting out a small sigh. “We’re taking you and Rewind back to Cybertron.” She looked to Knock Out, who averted his gaze again. 

“But, what about-?” Smokescreen asked, but Arcee shook her head. 

“We’ll find Perceptor after we get you home.” 

Smokescreen’s servo closed around Arcee’s arm, tighter this time. His optics were pleading. “We can’t just-” he was cut off by his own vocalizer. 

“We’ll think of something,” Arcee said, gently releasing Smokescreen’s grip on her arm. But, Smokescreen snatched her servo so she couldn’t leave. 

“No,” he coughed. “Let me finish.” 

Arcee faced him, holding up his servo in both of hers and giving him her full attention. 

“Remember when we all had to leave the base after Megatron attacked it? When Optimus almost…?” 

Arcee nodded. Smokescreen wheezed horribly before continuing. 

“When I brought him the Forge of Solus Prime, he told me not to use it on him. He told me that the survival of all Cybertronian kind was more important than any of us.” 

There was uncertainty in Smokescreen’s voice and Arcee realized what he was implying. 

“Please,” Smokescreen urged, staring unblinking into Arcee’s eyes. “Don’t worry about us.” 

Arcee broke her gaze and stared down at Smokescreen’s servo, which was closed sincerely around one of hers. 

“Arcee,” Smokescreen coughed, his voice wavering. “Arcee, promise me. Promise you’ll keep looking.” 

Arcee didn’t look at him for a while, just absently rubbing a thumb over Smokescreen’s knuckles. Finally, she took a deep, resigned vent. 

“I promise.” 

Smokescreen finally relaxed, servo going limp in Arcee’s. 

“Good,” he muttered. 

Silently, Arcee rested Smokescreen’s servo on his middle and glanced at Rewind. The mini-cassette was still asleep. Then her eyes focused on Knock Out, who still kept a safe distance. 

“Well, if we must keep going,” Knock Out started, “Then I suggest you drive so I can weld their wounds together for the time being.” 

Arcee offered him a stiff nod before leaving, her hand trailing the edge of Rewind’s recharge slab as she made her way out. Knock Out watched her as she headed to the cockpit, sat down, and the shuttle jerked forward on its way. She didn’t say a word, and the fact was severely bothering Knock Out. Still, he took the disposable welding torch from the first aid kit and began sealing the open welt on Smokescreen’s neck. The soft whirr of the torch filled the silence and, in turn, let the Aston Martin gather some of his nerves back. As expected, the welts began popping up on other places around Smokescreen’s throat, and Knock Out had to apply patches where it was too dangerous to weld. It was touchy work, patching a mech’s throat. Thankfully, Smokescreen remained still, aside from the occasional reactionary twitch. 

After Smokescreen’s throat cables were temporarily sealed, Knock Out leaned forward and pressed his audials to Smokescreen’s upper chest. From what he could judge without an internal listening device, Smokescreen’s vents were cycling a bit easier now. Without proper cycling, Smokescreen could overheat dangerously quickly. His cycling wasn’t exactly up to standard, but he would be all right, for now. 

Knock Out then turned to work on Rewind. Not long after he sealed the last welt, the smaller mech’s head shifted on his shoulders. Rewind’s optics onlined, but dimmed as he groaned and lifted a servo to his helm. He tried to sit up when Knock Out lightly pushed him back onto the slab. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Knock Out said, his voice low. 

“Mmfine…” Rewind muttered, trying to take his shoulder back from under Knock Out’s hand. “Jus- a headache.” 

“It’ll be more than a headache if you don’t lie still,” Knock Out replied curtly. 

Rewind shot him a questioning, yet irritated look. “Why?” 

“Long story short,” Knock Out replied. “Somehow you and Smokey over there were infected by the very thing we’re trying to fix.” 

A look of confusion, then fear, and finally more confusion crossed Rewind’s visor. “How? Ratchet looked us over before we left. We were clean!” 

“Not anymore,” Knock Out stated simply. 

Rewind brought both hands to his helm, gently feeling the top of it and yanking one hand away when he brushed over the wound. It hurt upon contact and spiked his already raging headache. 

“Don’t do that,” Knock Out added. 

“Yeah,” Rewind replied shortly. “I kind of got th- wait,” his servos rubbed his helm again. His visor suddenly flashed harshly. “My archives! If this stuff spreads any further, it could-” 

“Relax,” Knock Out huffed, moving Rewind to lie back again. “The more you freak out, the faster everything will get worse.” 

“Where’s Arcee?” Rewind asked. The fear in his voice was simultaneously drenched in suspicion. 

“Driving,” Knock Out answered “She’s okay. You two need to stay put to keep it that way.” 

Rewind glared daggers at the Aston Martin. “Are you threatening me?” 

“I meant stay put so she doesn’t get sick, too,” Knock Out rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly think I intend to hurt her or you?” 

Rewind didn’t answer but held his scrutinizing gaze. Knock Out sighed. 

“You’re impossible.” 

“You’re untrustworthy,” Rewind shot back. 

Knock Out whipped around to face him. “Primus in the heavens! What will it take for you and everyone else to stop suspecting me of every little thing?!” 

“You’re a defector,” Rewind snapped. “Who in their right mind would put any trust in a bot with flip-flopping loyalties?” 

“I have no loyalties!” Knock Out roared. “Loyalties are for saps with no sense of independence!” 

“Then _no one_ will _ever_ trust you,” Rewind replied, then pressed his head into his hands to sooth his headache. 

Knock Out’s clawed hands itched with ire, but he had no further interest in arguing with Rewind. He was starting to acquire a headache of his own. 

“Just stay put,” Knock Out commanded before leaving, shutting the door behind him. Slowly, he ventured into the cabin, but stayed out of the cockpit. Arcee was silently driving. Knock Out pretended like she wasn’t obviously aware of his presence and settled in one of the cabin seats. 

He’d have to check back on Smokescreen and Rewind sometime again, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

*** 

Iacon’s center was just a couple of ill mechs short of quarantine. Travel to and from Iacon had been discouraged for quite some time, but talk spread quickly about Ultra Magnus deciding to seal off Iacon completely. Whether or not this was true was unclear to Ratchet. 

So many had left. A few of evacuated before things got bad, but the majority was gone after First Aid’s demise. The death toll had begun shortly after that. 

Those that still stuck around were the immobile ill or the bot’s selfless enough to stay and assist Ratchet. But, the fact remained that nothing would improve without a solid cure, if there was even one to begin with. 

And then there were the Predacons. Predaking had been right about other infected Predacons. Thankfully, there weren’t many. The ones that were laid up, however, were about five times more difficult to handle than the other ‘bots. The phrase “sit still” was completely lost on them, deafened by fight-or-flight instincts when it came to needles and the like. 

Healthy Predacons remained far away from Iacon. All but Predaking, who appeared each day at sun up to loom by the swelling Medbay, peering through every window he could. Ratchet had the feeling that Predaking was scrutinizing every move he made when tending to a Predacon. Predaking would follow him around from outside as he moved about the medbay. 

The third day of this had ended and Ratchet still had neither the desire nor the strength to confront Predaking. However, Predaking himself instigated the encounter. Before he took his leave for the night, he pushed open the medbay door and let himself in. He found his way through the crowded area with little care for what his kibble knocked over or hit. He marched straight to Ratchet when he saw him. 

“Medic,” he prompted, causing Ratchet to cringe. “I wish to speak with you.” 

Ratchet sighed. “Yes, of course in a minute.” 

“Now,” Predaking growled. 

“I’m with someone,” Ratchet replied, gesturing to the ‘bot he was currently working on. 

“I said-” Predaking suddenly grabbed Ratchet by the helm and dragged him away. “Now.” 

Knocking more things over than before, Predaking trudged out of the medbay with Ratchet in tow. He didn’t’ let Ratchet go until they were outside. When he was let down, Ratchet was beyond the point of furious. Against his better judgment, he was very well ready to give Predaking and audial-full when the large Predacon raised a servo to silence him. 

“Where is your commander?” Predaking asked. 

Ratchet’s initial anger died and it turned into frustrated exhaustion. He gestured dramatically to the tower above the clinic. “Ultra Magnus is up there. Does that answer your question?” 

“No,” Predaking stated. Ratchet resisted the urge to turn right around and head back in the medbay. But, he couldn’t risk the brute with the oversized finials in front of him causing a ruckus again. 

“I men your other commander. The Prime,” Predaking explained. 

_Oh._ That _commander._ Ratchet thought. “You won’t find Optimus Prime anywhere,” he said. “He’s no longer with us.” 

Predaking nodded once. “I see.” He paused for a klik. Ratchet was almost surprised to realize that it was now Predaking that was choosing his words carefully. 

“Then, I say to you what I have been meaning to say to the Prime,” the large mech said. “As long as any of my kind reside here under your care, then my warriors and I will continue to patrol this area.” 

Ratchet instinctively looked around. There were more of them here than just Predaking? 

“If any threat reaches Iacon, we will be at the ready,” Predaking went on and then looked Ratchet dead in the eye. “But only for the time my subjects are being treated here.” 

Still wondering where any other where, Ratchet nodded. “I understand.” 

“Good,” Predaking answered. Then he reformed into his beastly shape and took off into the night sky. 

Ratchet glanced at the tower above. This would not be easy to explain to Ultra Magnus.


	13. Freeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of time to write this week because the weather over here in the East Coast is butts and classes were cancelled three days in a row. Even now, we're up to 6 inches of cold.  
> So, I had the time to write this long ass chapter!  
> And, to all the readers redirected from FanFiction.net, welcome!

_“Let’s get you home, partner!”_

_That was when Arcee was hit with an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu. That could explain why she wasn’t as surprised as before when what was left of Cliffjumper looked up and let out an animalistic snarl. Still, she ended up dropping him again, watching helplessly as he plummeted deeper into the jagged mine. This time around, her anger with herself was stronger than her shock. Despaired and fuming, she struck the catwalk she was crouched on with her fists. The world had grown dim around her as she dug her knuckles into her helm._

_Why didn’t she react sooner? Why couldn’t she have stopped this? Why, why, why!?_

_The catwalk lurched again, promptly crumbling under Arcee’s peds. She fell through, following Cliffjumper’s descent. Her fall was oddly slow, she realized. It was like she was sinking into some thick substance. She suddenly began to feel very tired as an unexplained cold feeling expanded from her core._

“Arcee!” 

_Her optics had already drifted shut when she barely heard her name. She didn’t feel like opening them. She was exhausted._

“Arcee! Arcee!” _Who was that calling her, anyway? Whoever it was, they sounded urgent, hysterical even._

“Arcee, wake up! _Wake up!_ ” 

_Okay, okay. Keep your armor on. She was getting to it. She just needed a klik._

“What’s wrong with you!? Arcee, come on!” 

_Arcee finally opened her optics._

Arcee’s surroundings were blurry for a short time before she shook her helm. She realized that the shuttle was racing at maximum speed and her ped was flooring the thruster pedal. She quickly released the pedal and scrambled to shut off the thrusters with her free hand. The rear engines whirred to a stop and the shuttle gradually came to a crawl. 

Arcee’s helm lulled forward in relief and she vented heavily. She tried to let go of the wheel when she noticed a larger servo gripping the wheel over her own. She heard Knock Out release a shaky vent, his digits trembling slightly against hers. She saw the Aston Martin squeezed up against the driver’s seat, head resting limply on the top of it. 

“Knock Out? What are you-?” 

Knock Out let go of the wheel and hauled himself up, a little wobbly on his peds. He stepped back and flopped into the seat behind him. “Oh, nothing,” he breathed. “Just trying to keep the ship from capsizing and resulting in any of our deaths. Basic everyday stuff, you know.” 

Arcee rubbed her head that had begun to hurt from being awoken so suddenly. “Did I…did I fall into recharge or something?” 

“Not really,” Knock Out answered, still coming down from an adrenaline high. “Your optics were online. You were just sitting there with a lead foot and an empty expression.” 

“Oh,” Arcee replied, looking out the windshield and back at Knock Out. “Are you okay?” 

Knock Out sat up. “I think my spark shorted out, but other than that I’m perfect.” 

“What about-?” Arcee was cut off as Knock Out jabbed his thumb towards the back cabin. 

“They’re fine,” Knock Out said. “I secured them to their slabs before I ran in here.” 

“Oh,” Arcee said, again. 

Knock Out stood back up. “Need a break?” 

“No, no I’m okay,” Arcee answered, powering on the thrusters again. “That doesn’t normally happen. I guess…” Arcee sighed. “I guess it’s been a long day.” 

Knock Out slid into the passenger’s seat as the shuttle sputtered into motion. “A long day isn’t a good enough reason for why you just went catatonic all of the sudden.” 

“It won’t happen again,” Arcee assured, firmly. 

“Fine,” Knock Out shrugged. “But, by some chance it does, warn me first this time.” Arcee shrugged in response, and the cockpit went awkwardly silent. Arcee broke it before the obnoxious, uneven rumble of the shuttle’s engine got to her. “How could I have been ‘catatonic’?” she asked quietly to herself. “I was dreaming.” 

“Did you?” Knock Out replied, startling Arcee a bit. “What about?” 

Arcee glanced at him. “Why do you care?” 

“Just making conversation,” Knock Out replied. “Hopefully it’ll keep you from falling into a stupor again.” 

Arcee gave him a sidelong glance. 

“Well?” Knock Out prompted. 

“It was just about a friend,” Arcee replied. 

“Which friend?” the Aston Martin continued to prod. 

“You wouldn’t know him,” Arcee replied dismissively. “He’s dead. He died a while ago.” 

“Ah,” Knock Out replied, nodding once in an exaggerated manor. “I see. _That_ friend.” 

“What do you mean _that_ friend?” 

“The one Starscream never shut up about,” Knock Out said, humor in his voice. “Cliffjumper.” 

Arcee tried not to cringe when that name filled the air. Something about how Knock Out had said it, with a scrap-eating smirk, sat uncomfortably in her audial receptors. “Yes, him.” 

“And, just what did Cliffjumper do in this dream?” Knock Out purred, clearly trying to push his limits. 

“He died,” Arcee growled. “But not before being turned into a mindless zombie, mutilated almost beyond recognition, and sliced in half.” 

Knock Out showed signs of backing off, but only slightly. “You remember the details vividly.” 

“They’re hard to forget.” Knock Out shrugged again. “Eh, once you see gored and dismembered ‘bots several times a day for millennia, they all blur together.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Arcee retorted. “You didn’t know any of them, did you?” 

“Never bothered,” Knock Out replied. 

“Cliff was a good friend of mine, to all of us,” Arcee continued, keeping her tense limbs in check and brushing off Knock Out’s apathy. “He never backed down from protecting the ‘bots he loved. When I saw him after his death, he wasn’t Cliff. He wasn’t anything. Everything he was had just disappeared.” She sat back. “The last time I ever saw him, he looked like he wanted to kill me.” 

Arcee waited for a snide reply from the mech beside her, but nothing came. After a couple kliks, Knock Out just made a short humming noise in acknowledgement. His expression was flat. Arcee vented a vexed sigh. “Why and I even telling you this?” 

“It’s keeping you talking,” Knock Out replied with less expression than before. “It’s working pretty well.” 

Another period of deafening silence ticked by until Knock Out spoke again. “Are you going to keep talking or am I going to have to fly this thing?” 

“Since you’re so interested in personal relationships,” Arcee replied, sharply. “Then why don’t we talk about yours for a change?” 

“Not much to talk about,” Knock Out said. “There weren’t many, and they’re all dead.” 

“There’s a thing we have in common,” Arcee acknowledged. 

Knock Out snorted. “Yes, well it seems for every one friend you loose you have two more to replace them.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m just saying,” Knock Out responded, simply. “You seem to get along pretty well with every other 

Autobot back on Cybertron.” 

Arcee eyed him and couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. 

“What?” Knock Out snapped. 

“Nothing,” Arcee said. 

“No, really, what’s so funny?” 

Arcee shrugged. “It’s just that I probably said something like that to Cliff at some point. Then he would have told me that maybe if I stopped being such a rock I’d do easier with others.” 

Knock Out rolled his optics. “How touching.” 

Arcee almost mirrored his irked expression. “You know, not everyone back home hates you.” 

“Oh?” Knock Out replied, raising his eyebrows incredulously. “That’s what you really think, is it?” he gave her a narrow glare. “Personal experiences say otherwise.” 

Arcee backpedaled. She saw his point. “Well, think about this: you’re here, helping us fix the problem. You’ve been active in the solution since the beginning.” 

“To not much avail, might I add,” Knock Out grumbled. 

“If you hadn’t been there back on that meteor, Smokescreen, Rewind, and I would have been goners,” Arcee went on. “To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t abandon us.” 

“Hm,” Knock Out muttered, folding his arms. 

Arcee searched the unfamiliar space ahead, making sure they were still on course. The coordinates she had been given told her that they weren’t far now. She tried to push away any anxieties about the road ahead. Those wouldn’t get them anywhere. Still, they had to be prepared for the worst. 

“I’m sorry,” Knock Out murmured unexpectedly. “About Cliffjumper.” 

“Really?” Then she halted and started again. “I mean…thank you.” 

Knock Out refused to meet her optics. “I’m sure he…was a good Autobot.” 

Arcee nodded. “He was.” She rubbed an unidentified splotch on the dashboard. She thought it was dried Energon, but now she wasn’t sure. It was nasty, but looked like an ideal distraction from the awkward atmosphere about the cockpit. Knock Out himself was staring out the windshield, looking as if he was quite focused on the nothing that preceded them. They went without talking long enough for the embarrassment of Arcee’s previous trance to set in. She hoped this would be the last time Knock Out saved their afts. It was starting to get a little mortifying. 

“Rewind’s been asking about you,” Knock Out said, “I assume Smokescreen would be too if he could speak.” 

Arcee glanced over her shoulder towards the closed off room. 

“It would do them good if you paid them a visit,” Knock Out continued, still focusing on something outside. 

Arcee nodded slightly. “That means you’re taking the next driving shift.” 

Knock Out shrugged. “Guess I am.” 

When Arcee stepped out from behind the wheel, she swore she could feel some tension leave the space near her. Knock Out quickly took her place and she almost caught the relief in Knock Out’s EM field brush past her. He must have been planning to take the wheel from her ever since he woke her up. Arcee let some air out of her vents as she pushed away her abashment. 

“If anything looks wrong on them, let me know,” Knock Out added. 

“Yep,” Arcee replied. _If anything looks wrong on them, aside from the deteriorating bits of outer shell, sure._

But, when she crossed the short distance to the other room, she stopped just before opening the door. 

“We heard about Breakdown, and,” she said, unsure if Knock Out was listening. “We’re sorry. We knew you two were good friends.” 

Knock Out didn’t respond and just continued driving, frame rigid. She could barely see his reflection in the windshield, but she thought she saw his expression: just as rigid as his body. Arcee turned on her heal and walked up to him. She reached out and gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder, then slipped behind the door. 

*** 

The door hissed shut and Knock Out slouched forward, relaxing the loaded EM field he didn’t realize he was holding back. Why did she have to go and mention Breakdown? 

Well, why did he have to go and mention Cliffjumper? 

The Aston Martin ran his digits across his helm finials. 

Yep, good friends, great friends, even. But, that was as far as he could say. He remembered back when he had raced Arcee through Iacon’s empty roadways and then that… _thing_ happened, that feeling in the pit of his spark. He hadn’t felt anything like it before. 

Except, he had, a very long time ago. 

His attention was now focused on where Arcee had touched him on his shoulder. The spot felt like ice. She might as well have stuck an icepick into his shoulder and straight through his spark and it wouldn’t have felt any different. And the worst part was that it felt _good_. He swallowed thickly. The whole thing was gratuitous and made Knock Out feel every hue of shame. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. What was he doing? Fawning over some femme. He’d rather take himself offline then make this into Breakdown all over again. Once they returned to Cybertron, Knock Out would be out of there faster than he had been that one night before. 

He slumped back in the chair. He still felt like his spark was in his throat. He pressed the heel of his servo against his left optic. _We’re almost there,_ He thought to himself. _Final stretch. You can make it._

He tied to clear his head when he heard a voice from the other room. He glanced over towards it and listened, but heard nothing. He turned and stared ahead. 

Then he heard it again. The voice sounded distressed. Before he could even process it further, he heard: “Knock Out!” 

It was Rewind. His voice was strained with something like fear. 

“Knock Out, help!” 

Knock Out shut off the ship’s thrusters and waited for the shuttle to coast to a stop before making his way to the back room. The door slid open and he saw Rewind looking right at him. Smokescreen was, too. Between them, Arcee knelt with her face to the wall. She was stiff, head tilted slightly upwards. 

“She just stopped moving,” Rewind said, hurriedly. “She was fine until now! It just happened!” 

Knock Out stepped around Arcee and knelt in front of her. Her optics were dim and locked in a thousand yard stare. Knock Out reached up to tilt her head forward and quickly drew his hand back when he felt how cold she was. He gingerly rested both hands on her shoulders. He became aware of her EM field, which was the equivalent of white noise at this point. Her state before hadn’t been a bad as this one. It was almost as if she had be struck with sudden death. Or, at the very least, literally frozen. She couldn’t have been dead if she still had an active EM field. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Rewind was holding his aching helm up with one hand, but still looked decently worried. 

Knock Out didn’t answer and carefully curled one arm behind Arcee’s shoulders while straightening her legs with the other. He got her into a sitting position with her back leaned against his arm. She still felt like dead air. He did a quick look-over of Arcee’s frame, but found no immediate physical trauma and, thank Primus, no signs of the faux Cosmic Rust. Still, this didn’t ease Knock Out’s thoughts. If he had found anything, at least he would have some clue to explain Arcee’s episode. 

The only thing Knock Out could think to do was to examine her spark casing. But, without any proper tools, there was no prying her spark chamber open without hurting her. He needed her to open her spark chamber herself, which she obviously wasn’t in any state to do at the moment. 

“Have you seen this happen before?” Knock Out asked Smokescreen. Smokescreen shook his helm silently. Knock Out subdued a shudder as Arcee’s frame dropped in temperature. She was far too cold for her build, which added another item to the list of reasons why she should have been dead if it weren’t for the faint presence of her EM field. Knock Out wondered if he could wake her up. It worked last time. 

“Arcee. Hey, Arcee.” 

He awkwardly jostled her shoulders with one arm, but all that did was lull her head forward and to the left. 

“Arcee, can you hear me?” That was a dumb question, and it received the unwelcome reply of Arcee’s frame going slightly colder. Knock Out tried to suppress the growing sense of dread. He probably wasn’t going to get a response unless he did something about that. Knock Out wasn’t the largest mech, but he was larger than Arcee, not to mention warmer. He sat back on his heels and put both arms firmly around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his warmer frame. He tried to ignore the obviously confused mechs watching him. 

“Anytime now, ‘Cee,” Knock Out muttered. He tried to speed up any internal workings in hopes of creating more warmth. He hoped this would work, at the risk of looking stupid, kneeling on the floor and cradling a former adversary. He even resorted to curling over her to condense any heat he could provide. It probably looked pretty stupid. He routed much of his heat to his arms. 

He really wished she’d wake up. 

Then, by some miracle of chance, Arcee’s faceplates twitched. She gave a harsh shudder, like she was trying to shake something off her. A portion of her own warmth gradually reappeared and Knock Out freed his grasp just before she woke up. Her optics scanned her surroundings until she noticed Knock Out. 

“It happened again, didn’t it?” she asked, voice low and groggy. Knock Out nodded, letting her hold herself up. Rewind made an audible sigh of relief and Smokescreen visibly relaxed. 

“So, this has happened before?” Rewind asked. Arcee’s mouth twitched wryly as she drew her knees to her chest. She was still pretty cold. 

“I was driving when it happened earlier,” Arcee answered. “Knock Out had to snap me out of it.” 

Rewind held out one of the berth restraints Knock Out had applied during that time. He had undone his shortly after the ship stabilized, but Smokescreen was still secured in place. 

“That explains why he had to strap us to our slabs,” Rewind said. 

“And this second ordeal has earned you a check up,” Knock Out said, looking at Arcee. “I’ll need to see your spark chamber,” he stated bluntly. 

He wasn’t surprised when Arcee gave him a weird look. “You may have internal damage,” he clarified, already tired of coaxing. “Might as well get it over with.” 

Arcee held her expression and then sighed and unraveled herself, shifting a few layers of plating aside to bear her spark casing. As soon as her spark was visible, she almost doubled over, gritting her teeth. The last bits of plating stopped short, like one side was jammed on something. Knock Out turned his head at an angle to see the obstruction. The plating was stuck on a metal bit; a familiar looking metal bit. A chill ran up his spinal strut as he ordered Arcee to stay still, fetched his tweezers again, and ever so gently reached for the bit. Very careful to not touch her spark casing, her gently pried the bit from its place. It came free and Arcee’s spark became fully visible. 

A deathly silence seized all four of them and left only the electronic hum of Arcee’s spark. Smokescreen took a sharp invent and sent himself into a coughing fit. Rewind looked like he was going to be sick. Knock Out almost dropped the small object he has extracted. Arcee’s servo’s hovered over her exposed spark casing. 

Almost half of it was eaten by blue rot.


	14. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy St. Patrick's Day! Here's more story!

Knock Out stood up and took a few steps back. "Okay, that's it," he said, throwing his arms up in surrender. "We're heading back!" 

Arcee tried to reply, but doubled over again when she tried to close her spark chamber. When she finally shifted the protective plating back in place, she got to her feet. Rewind said was she was thinking. 

"What!? But, we can't-" 

"Oh, but we are," Knock Out interrupted. "No more flying aimlessly though space, searching in vain for some old 'bot we'll never find!" He was long past willing to debate this any further. It wasted moments they could be using getting the three of them to better medial care. Then he could finally be rid of all this- of them. 

"As for you," he looked at Arcee. "You're in critical condition. You shouldn’t even be standing!" 

Arcee relented a little and sat down on Rewind's berth, but still gave Knock Out a hard look. But, knock Out replied to her before she could even say it. 

"Oh, please," Knock Out groaned. "Will you all just accept it? Perceptor's probably dead, anyway!" 

"You don't know that," Arcee snapped. 

"I know that you'll never live to see Cybertron again if we don’t get you to Ratchet soon," Knock Out shot back, already headed for the door. 

"Maybe if you were half the doctor Ratchet is..." Rewind muttered not so quietly. Knock Out went rigid at the remark and, despite resisting, turned to him. 

"I'm quite sure Ratchet would put three dying patients in priority and, believe it or not, that's what I'm trying to do," he snarled. "Now keep your vocalizer off and let me do my job!" 

The door hissed shut. a few seconds later, the shuttle lurched into motion again. Arcee stood and was able to walk to the main cabin before the pain in her spark casing brought her down again. Knock Out looked over and saw her and sighed loudly through his teeth. He got up quickly and helped her into a seat and took he wheel again. "Why do you insist on worsening your condition?" 

Even when Arcee's pain lessened a little, she still didn’t have anything to say. She wanted to argue with him and she really didn't want to accept his suspicions on their fate, but she didn’t have any rebuttle; not one Knock Out would listen to. Knock Out had other questions for her, anyway. 

"Did you know about this? Why didn't you say something? What is it with you Autobots and denying medical advice?" 

Arcee sat up. "No, I didn't know about my spark casing. I didn't say anything because I felt fine until now, and we Autobots have a thing called putting the needs of the many before the needs of a the few." 

"And what if the few die in the process of helping the many? Just collateral damage, I assume?" 

"So hundreds of Vehicons weren't collateral damage?" 

"At least Vehicons know when a situation is a stalemate," Knock Out veered the shuttle to complete its turn-around. "And they were MTO's specifically spawned to blindly service Megatron. But, then again, you and your Autobot buddies aren't so different." 

Arcee glowered at him, daring him to continue. She knew he would. 

"If Optimus Prime really cared about you all, why did he abandon you here to make up for all the destruction? Some Prime!" 

Arcee gripped the rusted armrests of her chair. "Take. That. Back." 

Knock Out said nothing and that fueled Arcee's anger to a boiling point. But, her deteriorating spark casing kept her in place. "You didn’t know him, you have no right to say anything about him!" 

"At least I had the sense to get out of my situation before everything went to scrap!" Knock Out spat. "You spent a good portion of your life leaping headlong into the frontlines of a backwards war, and this is where it's gotten the three of you!" 

"Like you're any better!" Arcee shot back. "You groveled at Megatron's and Starscream's peds until your deal went sour. You played the good little soldier and came crawling to us when Starscream dumped you. Anyone else would have killed you on the spot if you pulled that stunt on them." 

"But you didn’t kill me, did you?" Knock Out replied. "And, you know what? Maybe you should have! Then you wouldn't have to deal with a flip-flopping traitor like me!" 

"That isn’t the code Autobots operate on!" 

"And you've just proved my previous point," Knock Out said cooly, trying to bring down the excitement in the cabin. "Now, shut up and stop exhausting yourself if you know what's good for you. You're going to kill yourself faster with all that yelling." 

Arcee's spark clenched in pain as if on cue and she sank back in the chair. Her processor spun with critical damage warnings. The panic her systems were inevitably suffering from sent static up her every nerve receptor. She tried routing her nerves away from her spark chamber, but that didn’t ease the state of high alert her frame was stuck in. And yet, at the same time, all of her inner workings were fading out and starting up again. She would go blind for one second, then would gain sight back only to loose all feeling in her arms. If this is what dying by way of failing spark was like, it was decently uncomfortable. 

Arcee almost didn't notice that the shuttle wasn't going as quickly as before. It fact, it was lagging. Knock Out groaned loudly, throwing his head back in frustration. He fiddled with a few dashboard instruments with no result as the shuttle halted to a sluggish drift. Moving as if all his gears were wound too tight, Knock Out exited the cock pit and stomped past Arcee and towards the engine room. 

*** 

The engine room was, remarkably, even more cramped than the rest of the ship. Knock Out squeezed himself into the narrow space, occupied with figuring how any of them could have forgotten about refueling at some point. Then he stopped dead when he switched on the dull light. When the light blinked to life, three spindly critters dropped stiffly to the floor. Knock Out pinched one of them between his thumb and fore-digit and held it up. It was a mish-mash of spare parts and possibly shrapnel which, somehow, gave the appearance of a crude earth spider. 

Knock Out grimaced and dropped the sickly thing to the floor again. That's when he noticed another one of them was beside a few stray spatters of Energon. It as...the only Energon in the area, he realized. He studied the Energon crates in disbelief. They were all empty- licked clean, almost. The now-collapsed vermin had drained the entire supply, only leaving a smudge here and there. Knock Out had no question about who had done this. It was so like Scalpel to model Energon Stealers after himself. Angrily, Knock Out bought his ped down on the one nearest to him, squashing it flat. None of the Energon it had guzzled gushed from it, unfortunately. Scalpel knew better than to make it that easy. 

It dawned on Knock Out that now they were stuck - he was stuck - in the middle of nowhere. He took a step back, leaning back on the doorway. He fought to stay angry, but the weight of the situation was dragging him into a pit of despair he really wanted to avoid. There was no chance of getting home now. There was no chance of going anywhere. Still, he stepped out of the engine room and glanced out one of the windows in the cabin. 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing was out there. Nothing but stars and darkness and silence. It almost sounded poetic. Or stupid. Yeah, it was stupid. Being stranded with limited to no resources and being condemned to a slow, lonely death was pretty stupid. 

"Why did we stop?" Arcee asked, making Knock Out cringe. Oh, right. He wasn’t the only one here. He didn’t feel like answering her. 

"Knock Out, what's going on?" she persisted. Knock Out tried to answer this time, but his vocalizer wouldn't cooperate. What was he supposed to say? _Sorry if you're not keen on dying painfully, guys! I guess you're just scrap out of luck!_

He found his reluctant voice. "We're out of fuel." 

He could feel her looking at him and waited in heavy anxiousness for a reply. When none came, he continued. 

"Scalpel's crawlers ate it all. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ate all the processed Energon, too. Haven't checked." 

Arcee still didn’t say anything. It made Knock Out scramble for words to fill the dead air. 

"Should of known Scalpel wouldn’t have just let us off with a warning. He probably let those things loose in the engine room while we were distracted with repairs. If he couldn’t finish us immediately, he'd just..." Knock Out heaved a heavy sigh. "he'd just let us rot on our own." 

Knock Out should have been more vigilant. He should have given every corner of the shuttle a look after they escaped. He supposed he had been so caught up in the excitement of it that it slipped his mind that Scalpel's plans were layered. If he wanted to kill you, he would- be it directly or indirectly. 

Knock Out's thoughts were interrupted as he heard Arcee haul her self up, steadying herself on the wall. Knock Out turned around. "What are you doing?" 

Arcee took a minute to prop herself up against the wall. "Going to go t-t-t-talk to Smoke a-a-and Rewind." 

Her vocalizer skipped. Probably from the damage she was under, Knock Out assumed. Arcee raised an arm to push herself up, but didn't act on it. She already looked exhausted. Knock Out had expected her to be a little irate about the situation at hand, or at least scared. She was almost blasé about this, and Knock Out couldn’t help but feel concerned. Maybe she was feeling the same resigned, abandoned feeling he felt. Knock Out felt like nothing was worth doing anymore. He felt little to no emotion and just overall tired. They were going to die. There wasn’t any way to fix it and they had no more hope. There was no point in getting worked up about it. 

Arcee still didn’t move, and Knock Out thought for a second that she had frozen again. But, she glanced up at him for a klik and then went back to attempting to stand. Her legs suddenly went useless from under her and Knock Out jolted forward, catching her under one arm. The contact sent an uncomfortable feeling up his arm struts. Still, he knew she'd be doing even more damage to herself if she continued on her way. 

"Here, let me just..." Knock Out mumbled as he switched out the arm under Arcee and snaked it across her lower back. Arcee caught herself on one of Knock Out's shoulders and eventually they worked out a way Knock Out could hold her up. Knock Out had to leave forward a bit to keep Arcee's peds on the ground. Slowly and clumsily, they made it through the gap leading to the other room. When the door hissed open Smokescreen and Rewind looked like they had been waiting for them. 

"Why-" Rewind began to ask, but Knock Out held up a flat hand to stop him. Rewind's head caked with rust, offsetting his visor so it slanted quite uncomfortably to the right, and it had started spreading down his left arm, which he made an effort to keep in place. 

"Short answer: our ship's fuel was eaten and now were stranded forever." 

"Eaten?" Rewind asked. "What...ate it?" 

Knock Out didn’t answer him right away and instead took up the spot between the two slabs. He let Arcee down onto Rewind's slab and sat on the floor between them. He felt a mysterious weight keeping him grounded. 

"Does it really matter?" Knock Out finally said. "We can't fix it now." 

Arcee stepped off the slab and carefully sat on the floor, too, leaning on the slab's leg. Silence sat unwelcomed in the small room for some time until a thought burst in Knock Out's processor that flung energy back into his body. 

Maybe they weren't far enough away from Cybertron to loose contact? They hadn't tried since the initial take off. Maybe it wasn't too late! 

Without explaining himself, Knock Out scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the cock pit. He willed his commlink to crackle to life. He made it an open signal. 

"Hello? This is Knock Out on the search team for Perceptor, We-" the next words caught him in annoying embarrassment, but he continued. "Our fuel is depleted and three of our members are infected with faux Cosmic Rust. One in critical condition. Is anyone receiving this?" 

His voice echoed in his comm amongst a storm of white noise. No response, not even a garbled voice. Switching off the commlink, he began to figure out the ship's communication system. It was old as dirt, but after a few false startups, it whined and crackled in to working order. Ships tended to have a wider signal range, and he hoped beyond hope that it was wide enough. 

"This is Knock Out to Cybertron. We're stranded with no fuel and one of us needs emergency medical assistance." He paused, There was no answer. "Does anyone copy? We're in an emergency situation. We need help now!" 

Still nothing. The knot in Knock Out's tanks wound agonizingly tighter as the empty crackling persisted. 

"Anyone?" He managed. "Ratchet, Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus! Somebody!" 

He waited, the cockpit echoing the soft static. Knock Out stared blankly out the window and into the deep space. The static made it feel even bigger, colder, and lonelier that it normally was. He turned the radio off and turned on his heel towards the other room. On the way there, he peaked into the engine room again. Nope, still empty and littered with crude Scalpel clones. Without shutting the engine room door, he reentered the back room. Rewind, Arcee, and Smokescreen looked up at him like they had been waiting for him. 

"We're not in radio range of anything," Rewind stated, but there wasn’t any trace of irritation in his voice. "There's nothing out here but us." 

In any other instance, Knock Out would have defended his actions. But, he and Rewind seemed to be on the same frequency of defeat. They all seemed to be. A sort of mental exhaustion had struck the four of them and it dragged Knock Out to sit back down on the floor. Arcee was now leaning against the back wall so Knock Out occupied the space she had previously been. "How are you holding up?" he asked her. 

"I'll live," Arcee answered and Knock Out decided to not comment on the irony. 

He turned to look up at Rewind and the cassette answered before Knock Out could repeat the question. 

"M'fine," he said, holding his deteriorating arm gently in his lap and rubbing his aching helm. Smokescreen gave a thumbs up. Knock Out nearly jumped out of his frame when he heard a series of high-pitched bleeping immediately following it. It had been a while since Knock Out had heard that code, but the words materialized in his mind. 

_::How far did we make it?::_

"Less than a day away," Rewind answered, not bothering to surpress a sigh. "We were close." _::Yeah::_

Knock Out realized that the code talk had been from Smokescreen. The last word had come out as a single low whir. 

"Ratchet's al-l-lways pulled ev-v-veryone though things like this," Arcee said, quietly. "He'll find some way to help everyone back hom-me." The fact that she was eating the words she had said not even fifteen minutes ago gave an obvious grit to her voice. A brief feeling of satisfaction pinged in Knock Out's processor, but it was quickly snuffed. The cost of him winning an argument wasn't exactly proportional to a painfully boring death in a dingy rust bucket. It wasn't like Knock Out was without fault, anyway. The reason Scalpel had stranded them was because of him, and if Arcee, Rewind, and Smokescreen knew that they hadn't said anything. 

Knock Out thought he was done feeling guilty. It was becoming increasingly harder to brush off. Now, it was pretty unavoidable as he could feel the three other fields around him wax rigid. They were scared, and Knock Out would sooner tear out his main fuel line that admit that he was, too. Scalpel could have planted tons of other surprises in the shuttle: surprises that wouldn't be found until it was too late. 

Knock Out's thoughts were interrupted by a one-syllable chuckle from Arcee. 

"You know, thi-s-s-s isn't far from the-e time Optimus and I were st-tuck in the Arctic," She mused, half of her sentence nearly drowned out by static. 

_::Oh, yeah::_ Smokescreen trilled. _::I heard about that. And all the scaplets back at base? Sounded crazy::_

"I told Optimus how s-s-stupid it w-a-as. How we wou-u-uld freeze to death of all thing-gs," Arcee loosely folded her arms in her lap. "All of us almost ended up either shredded to nothing or buried under snow." 

Knock Out gave a short nod. "I know the feeling." 

Arcee set her head to lean a little higher on the wall. Rewind turned and dropped lightly to the floor on his peds. He settled to sit near Arcee. The chrome on his head creaked from the rust and half of his visor was black. The left side of Knock Out's face throbbed at the sight of it. 

There was the guilt again. Knock Out curled his legs against his chassis to alleviate it. The feeling sat in his mouth and he could feel it lie in wait until he decided to admit his folly. Eh, why not? It wasn’t like it was going to make a difference. 

"Arcee?" 

Arcee and Rewind looked at him. Ugh, he wish Rewind hadn't. Still, there as no turning back now. 

"I-" 

The shuttle jerked and rocked, cutting Knock Out off. The shuttle lagged to the right like it was being pulled to the left. Knock Out leapt to his peds. He couldn’t think of anyone or anything that would target their ship but Scalpel. The shuttle landed on a rough surface, drawing stained whines from the hull and almost knocking Knock Out off balance. The next sound was something Knock Out hadn’t expected to hear: knocking. 

Who ever was main door waited for a response. When there was none, the main door unlatched and dropped open. Knock Out took a sturdy stance in front of the room's doorway. He unsheathed his buzzsaw and held it at the ready. If Scalpel had dared to send his goons to collect Knock Out and his comrades, then this was a different story than leaving them to corrode in silence. It was almost sloppy on the old insect's part. Knock Out was more than happy to take down a few scouts. 

A concentrated beam of light shined into the interior. First through the cabin, then the cockpit, and then towards the back doorway. 

"Hello?" A voice- too high to be Chop Shop and not grating enough to be Scalpel - called into the shuttle. "Is anyone in here?" 

Footsteps clattered into their ship and the light neared Knock Out. The light cast directly at him, closely followed by two yellow optics. Knock Out's buzzsaw kicked on to a decent speed and Knock Out stepped threateningly out of the room. "Stay where you are," he growled. 

The smaller mech was outlined by the dim biolights in the ship and the light outside. They stood still, the light still aimed at Knock Out. 

"I don't mean any harm," they said, sounding unfazed but taking a few steps back. "We got your transmission. I'm here to bring you to my superior." 

"Oh yeah?" Knock Out cocked his head and narrowed his optics. "And who would that be?" 

"The Cybertronian scientist: Perceptor."


	15. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been super mega busy building websites and doing creative writing stuff, so I apologize AGAIN for the space between updates.  
> Heck, I'm graduating soon so I'm not sure the workload will let up soon. I'm still working on this story as much as I can. Enjoy!

Knock Out had to physically shake the dumbfounded look off his face. It fell into one of skepticism. 

"And why should I believe you're Perceptor's drones?" He asked. 

The smaller bot looked up at him for a klik, then popped a commicube from a compartment on their waist. It was an embarrassingly old model. The cube shed a little more light on the unnamed mech's face, and Knock Out almost thought they looked familiar. 

"Sir, this is Firewall. The ship occupants are not cooperating," the bot- apparently named Firewall- spoke into the cube. 

"Let me speak with them," a monotone voice replied. Firewall handed the cube up to Knock Out, who awkwardly took it. He didn't have time to answer. 

"Are you the one who sent out that transmission?" The bot on the other end asked. "Is your designation Knock Out?" 

"Uh," Knock Out croaked and then rebooted his vocalizer. "Yes?" 

The cube threw up a projection, forcing Knock Out to hold it away from him. The face in the projection was, indeed, Perceptor. A much, much older version of Perceptor than Knock Out remembered, but still Perceptor. 

"You called for immediate assistance, did you not?" Perceptor went on. 

"Yes," Knock Out repeated. 

"Then, Knock Out, gather your fellow occupants and follow Firewall." Perceptor stated then the projection cut off. 

Knock Out looked back at Firewall, who was waiting for his response. Knock Out glanced over his shoulder. "We...we might need a little help getting out of here." 

Firewall nodded and made another dispatch on the cube. Knock Out turned and popped back into the back room. 

"Well," he started. "I guess we found him." 

Arcee nodded and smiled just enough to persuade Knock Out to give a small smile a back. 

"We heard." 

*** 

A 'bot, taller than Firewall, who's name Knock Out didn't catch, arrived in the shuttle to help support Smokescreen so he could walk. He looked significantly weaker since he had last been on his peds, but the sports car chirped that his legs were just asleep. That didn't explain how his venting was even more strained, however. Aside from a crumbling arm and feeling painfully top heavy, Rewind was able to walk on his own. That left Arcee. 

She was already working on getting to get up off the floor shortly after the other 'bot had come to help Smokescreen. Rewind helped her as much as he could, but was pretty limited with one functional arm. Knock Out gently pulled her up the rest of the way. Arcee steadied herself against him, which alone was straining on her dying mechanisms. Knock Out could already tell that holding her half way up wasn’t an ideal set up anymore. He had to practically drag her across the cabin last time. So, instead of that he decided to go the full mile and straight up carry her. Surprisingly, Arcee gave little struggle and surrendered to Knock Out's hold. She was pretty light and the realization of how small she was made Knock Out feel like he was carrying a thin sheet of glass. It was impossible not to sense her EM field and it felt like a series of faint, sporadic static shocks. 

Finally, they exited the shuttle and onto rusted, old floor plating. Knock Out took in the environment with unbridled confusion. There had been nothing for miles in every direction the last time he looked out the window, and now they were standing in a medium-sized, arched hangar. He caught himself feeling awestruck at how there was actually 'bot-made surface under his peds. 

He snapped out of his daze as they filed through the exit and into what appeared to be the atrium of whatever building they were in. Mechs, similar in build to Firewall, strode above and around them. They all looked increasingly familiar and Knock Out didn’t realize why until he looked down at Firewall himself. Short, boxy, and with rounded, weird-looking plating on the either side of his head. 

Minus the lack visor and face mask, and a different color scheme, Firewall had a striking resemblance to First Aid. Knock Out felt a phantom stab down his throat, but fought off the wave of nausea that had hit him. First Aid's build was pretty common among medic and scientist 'bots. He noticed he had unconsciously pulled Arcee closer to his chest. 

"This way, please," Firewall said, leading them into the east side of the area. A stark white plate read "medbay" above the door they entered. Knock Out was almost blinded by how white the medbay was. 

"Here," another voice said Knock Out's left. "We can take this one." 

Hesitantly, Knock Out handed Arcee off to the medic beside him. She was carefully lowered onto a pristine white recharge slab with Smokescreen and Rewind on slabs to either side of her. A twinge of spite sat in Knock Out's spark as he saw three individual medics fuss over the three of them. He had a bit of an issue with watching others do the job he had already been doing. 

Firewall suddenly appeared in front of Knock Out. 

"Perceptor wants to speak with you." 

*** 

Knock Out paid little attention to the trip to Perceptor's office. He was more concerned about what he was supposed to say. He didn't plan on even going to see the old scientist with the others and now he was the soul speaker for them. He could only compare Perceptor to Shockwave in his mind: completely dismissive of anything Knock Out had to say. 

Firewall's appearance was phenomenally useless in making Knock Out feel any better. 

"So," Knock Out said, looking away from the service mech. "How is it exactly that this place...exists in a barren part of space?" 

"We're on a private Spacebridge frequency; on a ship," Firewall drawled. His voice sounded nothing like First Aid's. It eased the knot of uneasiness Knock Out felt in Firewall's presence. "We wouldn’t have received your message if the touchdown points hadn't been activated for routine check. Lucky you, huh?" 

"Yeah," Knock Out replied, a bit falteringly. "Lucky break." 

Firewall halted in front of the office and Knock Out almost tripped over him. The small mech tapped the door open. "Knock Out is here, sir." 

"Send him in." 

Knock Out straightened his spinal strut and assumed the a similar posture he took when he spoke to Megatron. He stepped inside and the door clamped shut behind him. The office was pretty humble if you didn't count the window that took up the other half of the room. Tools and other miscellaneous objects sat on the extensive desk and monitors stared from all angles. 

"Knock Out," the synthetic computer voice of Perceptor buzzed from the center of the office. Perceptor was sitting in a wheeled desk chair with his back to the main monitor. "Take a seat." 

Keeping his face neutral, which resulted in his signature smirk, he sat in the chair facing Perceptor. 

"Your transmission said you had been sent to find me," the scientist bluntly stated. "You mentioned Ultra Magnus and Dr. Ratchet as well." 

Knock Out nodded. "I did. Ultra Magnus sent me and my..." he searched for the word to describe the others. The word "friends" was definitely out. "-my co-workers to seek you out. An epidemic has broken out on Cybertron and Ratchet requires your chemical expertise." 

"I see," Perceptor replied. 

"And, in the process," Knock Out continued. "Three of us were infected as well. One was infected directly at the spark casing." 

"Yes," Perceptor said. "I was notified. He is being put on life support and under supervision as we speak." 

"She, actually," Knock Out corrected. "Her name is Arcee." 

"Hm," Perceptor nodded. "I've also been informed that the three of them seem to be infected with common Cosmic Rust. Is this the epidemic on Cybertron?" 

"Yes...yes and no," Knock Out explained. "It looks like Cosmic Rust, but the effects Corrostop has are adverse." Dread suddenly creaped into his processor. "You can't treat them with Corrostop. It'll only spread faster. Don’t administer it to them." 

Perceptor gave him a sideways look but picked up a radio from the desk. "Medbay, stop all administrations of Corrostop to our guests." 

"Yes, sir," the radio replied and Perceptor set it down again. 

"You seem rather informed about this illness," Perceptor said. 

"I'm a medic. I've been working with Ratchet to control it ever since it came up," Knock Out replied. 

"How many people are ill on Cybertron?" 

"More than half of the population of Iacon when we left." 

Perceptor was silent for a klik, looking as if he was considering something. Knock Out thought this was already going pretty well. 

"If so many in Iacon are ill, why did they send away one of their medics to look for me?" 

Addendum. Knock Out looked for an explanation that didn't involve First Aid. "I was...requested aboard in case the initial search party fell ill." 

Perceptor nodded and Knock Out spoke again. 

"But, enough about us. My coworkers and I have a few questions for you." 

"Oh?" 

"I'm sure your friends and fellow scientist types are wondering why you left Cybertron without saying a word to them." 

Perceptor looked at Knock Out with an unreadable expression. Come to think of it, Knock Out realized that Perceptor's expression had never changed the entire time they had been speaking. It was jarring to talk to someone who had wiped all their emotions from their processor. It was very similar to talking with Shockwave. Knock Out's sentiments towards Perceptor soured further. 

"I do not think you are in a position to question me on my personal motives," Perceptor answered. 

The corner of Knock Out's mouth twitched. "No, I suppose I'm not." 

Perceptor seemed satisfied with that answer. Probably. It was pretty hard to tell. Knock Out idly drummed his digits together, the soft clinking sound they made echoing in the office. It bought him a little time to figure out what to say next. 

"The war's over, you know," was what came out. Perceptor's answer followed on the sentence's heels. 

"A ceasefire?" the scientist asked. Knock Out shook his head. 

"No. It's completely over. There hasn’t been any fighting for months-" 

Perceptor's optics darkened. "A ceasefire." 

Knock Out opened his mouth to reply, but didn't and resorted to shooting Perceptor a confused look. Perceptor's optics remained the pale dark yellow they had become. 

"Knock Out, how long have you participated in this war?" 

Taken aback, Knock Out took a second to reply. "I wasn't very involved for the most part. Not until near the end, you could say." He avoided Perceptor's gaze. 

"The war wasn't just constant fighting. There were many instances where we thought there was peace. but, war does not simply end. The tension between two factions, once started, does not stop. There will always," Perceptor's optics went even more dark. " _always _, be momentum in war. Even long after both Optimus Prime and Megatron expire, their followers will finish what they started."__

Knock Out forced his optics to look straight into Perceptor's. He really didn’t have time to beat around the proverbial bush anymore. "We need you back on Cybertron. It's not just those three dying, dozens and maybe hundreds more are dying or dead from the same sickness. We almost died trying to find you." 

It was Perceptor's turn to be silent. Knock Out's crimson optics bore into him, and he intended to hold the scientist under his gaze the way he had been. However, Perceptor didn’t seem at all intimidated. 

"Will you come back with us?" Knock Out asked firmly. 

They glared at one another for sometime until Perceptor stood. 

"We are done here." 

Knock Out stood, too, prepared to argue. But, Perceptor turned to his desk, waking up the main monitor. 

"So, it's a no then." Knock Out said, forcing the anger from his voice. 

"I will do my best to help your coworkers, and you four will remain guests here until then," Perceptor stated flatly without looking away from the monitor. 

"And how do you plan on curing them?" Knock Out gritted. 

"You are dismissed, Knock Out," Perceptor answered, but Knock Out made no move to leave. 

"Are you just going to use trial and error on them? Throw chemicals at them until something changes?" Knock Out walked up behind Perceptor. "You think you know what you're dealing with?" 

"This meeting is over," Perceptor said, "Perhaps we will speak again." 

"What about your Spacebridge frequency?" Knock Out said. "Would be too much to ask to just bridge hop back to Cybertron?" 

Perceptor said nothing but Knock Out saw one servo stray from the keyboard to press a small button on the console. 

"You haven't even asked me anything about this illness!" Knock out moved away from the door. He knew Perceptor had buzzed someone to escort him out of the office. "Figuring it out for yourself could take longer than they have left!" 

No answer. Knock Out stepped forward and grabbed Perceptor's shoulder roughly. "Why aren't you listening to me!?" 

Two servos clamped down on Knock Out's shoulders and tore him away from Perceptor. "Let's go, pal," the larger mech rumbled, pulling Knock Out by the arm. 

Knock Out snatched his arm away. "Fine, fine. I'm going." He went around the guard and trudged into the atrium. Once he was a foot or so away from the door he turned around. The door was shut and the guard was eyeing him suspiciously. Knock Out looked around and barely caught the gaze of a few workers that were pretending not to notice him. He shrugged them off and headed in no particular direction other than away. He aimlessly went up one of the staircases to another level in the ship, not meeting the optics of the small bots he passed. There weren't many, but there were too many for Knock Out right now. He couldn’t stand to look at them and he didn't want them to look at him, either. He went on walking in a stiff, directionless path until he almost passed a door labeled with "MAINTENANCE ONLY" in industrial, spray painted letters. Off to the side was a rack of magna-clamps so maintenance drones didn't fly off into space while cleaning the ship's outer hull. Perfect. 

Knock Out waited until no 'bots were in sight and quickly swiped a pair of clamps. They were a big snug, but they would do. Quietly, he slipped out the door and onto a maintenance catwalk on the outside of the ship. No drones were anywhere on the catwalk. Knock Out wasn’t sure if the feeling of his tanks lurching was because of the relief or because he there were couple magna-clamps between him and an eternity in deep space. The catwalk was thin and was meant for smaller drone peds. It was too thin for Knock Out to even sit down if he wanted to. He leaned against the ship's hull, resisting the urge to drag his pointed digits along the old, faded metal his back was to. 

He didn't want to negotiate with Perceptor, not again. It was like arguing with a computer which, actually, wasn’t too far from what he had just done. He was convinced that nothing he could say would sway the old clunker. Even if something had gotten though, would Perceptor even be able to save them in time? Smokescreen and Rewind, possibly but Arcee was most likely already a goner. The thought tore at Knock Out in a very unwelcome way. 

He sighed heavily. He couldn't do this anymore. _You did all you could_ , he thought. _No one can say you didn’t do anything._

Looking up, Knock Out tried to see if he could recognize anything. From what he could see, nothing looked familiar. He had no idea where he was, but he picked out a memorable-looking star cluster. If he could get the shuttle out of the hangar he could head that way. He didn’t know how far this ship was away from Cybertron, but he made the guess that it was much farther away than where he had been stranded. Knock Out wondered where Energon rations were kept and how hard would it be to swipe a couple crates on his way out. He busied his processor with details to shut out the idea of being completely alone in unfamiliar space. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a noise bouncing off the catwalk and ship hull. He braced himself against the hull, ready to retreat back inside. He looked down both sides of the narrow catwalk. It was empty on either side, but he still heard rhythmic clicking. Where was it-? 

"Up here, _mein freund_ ," came a voice inches above Knock Out helm. Minding the narrow footing, he spun around and saw Scalpel grinning with painful-looking teeth. 

"You!" Knock Out snarled, unsheathing his buzz saw. Scalpel remained still as Knock Out brought the blades down on the tiny scientist, slicing him in half. Knock Out felt nothing hit his weapon but the ship's metal. Both halves of Scalpel were still smiling as they fizzed away and rejoined a few centimeters beside the blades. 

"Surprise!" Scalpel wheezed and dove into a fit of laughter. 

A hologram. Of course it was a hologram. Knock Out wrenched his buzz saw out of the ship. "Where are you?" 

"Not here," Scalpel answered after controlling his laughter. "Nowhere near here, actually. My assistant, however..." he gestured towards a faceless drone of his that clambered from under the catwalk. It's "face" was a garbled mess that only slightly resembled a projector. Knock Out was about to raise his ped to squash it. 

"Don’t worry, neither of us intend any harm," Scalpel said, his voice attempting a patronizing lull. The minion below nodded once. 

Knock Out felt silly facing the hologram, but felt even sillier talking to the drone. "Then why are you here?" he stepped toward the maintenance door. "Take one step in there and I'll-" 

"Slow down, slow down," Scalpel drawled. "I'm only here to speak with you." 

Knock Out scowled. "Is that so?" 

"Honest," Scalpel replied, skittering closer. "You aren't normally so jumpy. What's eating you, _mein roter freund?_ " 

"I'm fine," Knock Out said though his teeth, stepping away from the hologram. 

"No you aren't," Scalpel said, breaking his gentle speech. "I know you, Knock Out. I know when something isn't right." 

"Like I'd tell you," Knock Out spat. 

"You're thinking of escaping," Scalpel stated. "I can see it. I've seen it on all my patients and you're no different. Running off with the Autobots isn't working like you planned?" 

Knock Out said nothing. Scalpel nodded sagely. 

"I see. Knock Out, you know I wouldn't have let Chop Shop kill you, right? Do you know why that is?" 

No answer again. 

"Because I knew that with the right encouragement, you'd come back." 

Scalpel seemed to grow more impatience with Knock Out's silence, and Knock Out knew it. "and I'm sure you'd rather be on Cybertron than drifting through space," Scalpel added. 

Knock Out squinted at Scalpel. "If I wanted to be back on Cybertron, I wouldn't be here." 

"I think you'll want to come back now," Scalpel chuckled. "Things have changed." 

"Yeah," Knock Out growled. "Everyone there's either dying or hates me. I imagine they won't be friendly to you either." 

Scalpel grinned. "Funny you should mention that," Scalpel quipped. "I'm not here because I just so happen to be headed to Cybertron as we speak! Things have been going so well there, I felt it was time to finally pay my old home a visit." 

Knock Out looked at him sideways. 

"I must say, it worked much better and faster than we ever intended, don't you think?" Scalpel beamed. 

Knock Out drew a blank for a second until the realization hit him like a ton of scrap. He should have known. He should have _known!_ "You don't mean you...you actually used Project Cobalt?" Knock Out breathed. 

Scalpel only laughed giddily. 

"But, it was on old plan!" Knock Out said. "We scrapped it ages ago! It would never work, you said it yourself!" 

"Isn't it a treat that it did, though?" Scalpel replied. "Of course, I made a few modifications before we set it into motion. I figured you'd be impressed!" 

Knock Out had to admit, he was. 

"I didn't know how well it was working, however, until you turned up and told me," Scalpel continued, "And, since some of the plan was your doing, I figured you want a cut of the rewards." 

Knock Out was still reeling. Project Cobalt had been so long ago, he had made no plan to remember. The project had only gone as far as starting the disease to use, and even then most of the production had been scrapped. The antidote Knock Out had tried to create nearly a week ago had been based off the early productions of the disease. 

"Once Iacon is taken, there won't be much left to stop us. I can't promise anything this early, but I'm practically offering you a place in the new order of Cybertron," Scalpel rasped. "All of this wouldn't have been possible without you. You should be proud." 

And, at an earlier time, Knock Out would have been. Now, he couldn’t shake the guilt that have befallen him. 

"So," Scalpel said. "Do we have a deal?" 

Knock Out stared out into space for a long while and surprised himself how easy it was to say "no." 

Scalpel twitched. "What?" 

Knock Out turned to Scalpel. "I said no. No, I won't go with you." 

_CRACK CRACK CRACK_

Knock Out was flung backwards as searing pain seized his chest. He braced himself against the ship's hull, defensively crossing his arms over his spark chamber. His spark contracted and it squeezed a pained cry out of him. The pain seemed to spread like liquid though his chest and around his torso. Knock Out couldn’t form any words as his insides burned in agony. Scalpel shook his head. 

"I honestly thought you'd be more cooperative. I see I expected too much of you." 

Knock Out wordlessly looked at Scalpel, eyes wild. It felt like something was eating him from the inside, like his inner workings were melting. Scalpel's hologram made it's way up Knock Out's chest and onto his shoulder. "I figured you'd be grateful," the mangled scientist wheezed into Knock Out's audial. "You were always so compliant when Breakdown and I found your sorry aft on Velocitron. You remember that, don't you? What happened to those days?" 

Knock Out felt his vocalizer was being torn further down his throat. He had no energy to shake Scalpel off him. 

"If it weren't for me you'd be alone, and you _hate_ being alone," Scalpel snarled. "And now you're alone again and here I am offering you Cybertron on a platter, and you choose now to be difficult." 

Knock Out's spark contracted again, sending a burst of static into his EM field, followed with another strained cry. 

"But, I'm a reasonable mech," Scalpel went on. "I'll give you another chance. Always the generous one, aren't I?" 

Out of his peripheral vision, Knock Out saw the camera-face drone present a capped syringe. Scalpel giggled. 

"Come back with us, and this antidote is al yours." 

Knock Out found his voice. "I- know what-t it'll do," he gritted through painfully clenched denta. "-already tried it. Doesn't wo-rk." 

"So, you managed to remember the old antidote? The one with the reformatted Corrostop," Scalpel said, his voice still as if he were talking to a sparkling. "Good thing you didn't use it on yourself. You'd be nothing in seconds. No, I promise, this antidote is correct." 

The camera drone shuttled up the hull and held the syringe out to Knock Out, just out of his reach. 

"So, what'll it be?" Scalpel asked. 

Another wave of agony wracked Knock Out's frame. 

"Choose quickly. I took the liberty to weaponize the batch we're bringing along to Cybertron and, lucky you, you get to experience the test run first hand. I say you have about 10 minutes," Scalpel rasped, idly rubbing two legs together. 

Knock Out tensed even more looking at the syringe. His spark was pounding and flaring, volts of electricity surging through every inch of his body. He wasn't completely convinced that the syringe was Scalpel said it was, but he felt his spark shrink another size and panic got another foothold in his processor. 

"Okay, okay I'll come back! I'll come back," Knock Out choked. 

Scalpel tilted his head innocently. "Promise?" 

Knock Out nodded his head quickly, swallowing another yelp. 

Relief instantly washed over Knock Out as quickly as the pain had come earlier. He didn’t even feel the syringe in his arm until the agony drained from his body and Scalpel's drone removed the needle. Knock Out doubled over, waiting for his systems to stop overheating, which resulted in a bout of violent coughing. 

"Well, that's all of it," Scalpel said, now on the ship's hull again. "you used every last drop. Shame, I was about to offer if you wanted to use it on your friends." 

Knock Out fought to keep his venting under control. "What?" 

"But, you used all of it on yourself," Scalpel drawled. The camera drone held out the empty needle to Knock Out. Scalpel shrugged. "Oh well, I should have brought more." 

Knock Out took the syringe and searched its inside. Aside from a few stray residue, it was very much empty. The Aston Martin wanted so badly to grab Scalpel, to rip every one of his scraggly limbs off one by one, to drown him into his own curdled Energon, remove those humungous bug eyes with his own knives, something! 

"Anyway, gather your things, Knock Out," Scalpel said. "I want you on or near Cybertron by morning. My assistant will be waiting for you by your ship to guide you back." 

Knock Out wordlessly turned to the maintenance door, still holding the syringe in one hand. 

"Oh," Scalpel said before he left. "and if you're thinking about running off by yourself," Scalpel's voice lowered threateningly. "I really encourage you to think twice." 

The door slid shut. 

Knock Out glanced around. No one was near. In fact, the atrium ahead was dim. He assumed the ship had shut down for the night. Good. He stuffed the syringe in his subspace and silently made his way down the ground floor. At the center of the quiet atrium, he tried to remember which direction the hangar they had come from was. A soft white glow made him cast an eerie shadow across the floor. It was the medbay. A drone was standing in front of the door, locking it. 

No, he wasn't going to do it. He wasn’t going to go in there. He couldn’t. 

And yet, here he was walking up to the drone. The bleach white bot looked up at him. "We're locking up," they said flatly. 

"Wait," Knock Out said, a little louder than he had intended. "My...my co-workers are in there. Can I-" he paused. "Can I speak to them for a minute?" 

The drone stared at him for a second, then sighed. "Fine. But, make it quick, and don't disturb the other patients." 

It took an eternity for the drone to reopen the medbay and Knock Out did his best to enter like he wasn't pressed for time. Even with most of the lights off, the medbay still managed to glow white. There two rows of medical slabs with Smokescreen, Rewind near the front and Arcee near the end of the left row. Knock Out quietly stood between the two rows. Smokescreen, Arcee, and Rewind were hooked up to the slabs and soundly in recharge. Knock Out carefully searched the slabs for any medical charts or logs, but found none. He found himself searching them with his optics to assess their condition on his own. Smokescreen, while breathing easier with higher grade patches on his neck and possibly some internal work done from the medical staff, still breathed audibly enough to be uncomfortable. Rewind was patched up pretty neatly as well, but most of his helm and shoulder was nothing but metal patches. Knock Out didn't want to think about where Rewind's other arm was. Lastly, Arcee lay under a couple thermal blankets and an uncountable amount of wires stuck out from under them. Unlike Smokescreen and Rewind, who only had standard monitoring devices around them Arcee had several more, tracking every function of her body and pouring constant readouts across the screens. At the moment, her overall readout was mostly stable. 

Knock Out hooked a stool with his foot and brought it nearer to sit on. Something in the back of his processor told him he was wasting precious time, but he pushed it away. The din of the medical equipment drew him to feel a little bit as ease. It was a sound he was so accustomed to, after all. Arcee looked much more comfortable than she ever had been while on the shuttle, but Knock Out knew that that wasn't any indication of her condition being any better. Still, it was nice to see her look calmer. He remembered mentioning at some point that she lovely features as some of his usual battle banter, and he couldn't help but think he had meant it all those months ago. Looking back, she was very easily one of the most graceful warriors he had seen in a long time. She was so small and light on her feet that taking a swing at her was like trying to cut water in half. Knock Out liked to believe that that had been the why reason she had been able to take him down. You'd turn your back for one second and somehow you'd end up on the ground with Arcee standing on your head. It was frustrating. 

A thought crossed Knock Out's mind as he looked at Arcee. If it had been months earlier and Arcee was immobile and defenseless on a table, he wondered if he would have taken the opportunity to do away with her. Had he done it with other bots? Absolutely he had. Quick, painless mercy killings weren't out of his range. It was easy, and it would've been even easier with a bot as small as Arcee. Heck, at this point he could probably just, quite literally, pull the plug on her and it'd be over. He wasn’t prepared for the sour feeling that immediately followed that thought, a feeling that made him draw his hands farther away from Arcee. He couldn’t convince himself he wouldn't put her offline. Despite the countless others he could and would have done the same to, something about doing it to Arcee felt so wrong. For why, he didn’t want to know. 

He sighed, running his claws across his finials. This was all so stupid. There was no reason to be swarmed with conviction. He didn't need it. He wasn’t going to disconnect Arcee because he was certain he'd be bombarded with alarms and then he'd never be able to get off this ship. That had nothing to do with Arcee's well being, it had to do with his. He had been given the ultimatum of go back to Cybertron and rekindle his old friendship with Scalpel or go nowhere and let Scalpel hunt him down an kill him horribly. It was really a no-brainer. It was just joining the winning team. It was nice being on their side while it lasted but he didn't belong with them; he never had and was foolish to think that he ever could. 

Arcee's hand suddenly moved, causing Knock Out's protoform to nearly leap out of his frame. Arcee's arm slid a little ways off the medical slab and Knock Out searched her face; she was still asleep. Knock Out looked down at Arcee's servo and waited for a minute before gently reaching to put back in its place. He tried to touch her as little as possible, and even then he could feel the cold rolling off her frame. He quickly tucked her arm back under one of the thermal blankets, still feeling chills from her near frigid body. 

Another sinking feeling assaulted his tanks, making them feel like they had tumbled out of him. It was the worst time to remember the antidote syringe he had thoughlesly stowed in his subspace. He took it out and stared at it. Every circuit in his body egged him to smash it against the wall, but what stopped him was just catching a glimpse of a few cloudy rivulets of liquid running down the inside of the container. He held the syringe right side up and watched the rivulets gather into a very _very_ tiny puddle at the bottom. 

Despite everything, an unsure smile cracked on Knock Out's face. The amount was far too small to make any difference in a scaplet, but it was something; something that could, perhaps, be used to make more. While it poked a hole in the hopeless shroud Knock Out had found himself under, it didn't exactly change his situation. 

Speaking of his situation, he had wasted far too much time sitting here, moping. He got up from his stool, still looking at the residue in the syringe and then back at the three incapacitated Autobots. He noticed a faint red glow that the had barely noticed before. It was Rewind's head-mount camera. Rewind, himself remained asleep. Knock Out approached him and looked into the camera. He assumed it was constantly recording, at least he hoped so. Knock Out cautiously leaned forward and snapped his digits close to Rewind's head. No response. 

Still nothing. Knock Out drew back and looked back into the camera. He drew a quiet vent and looked the camera head on.

"Hi, it's Knock Out...obviously," Knock Out stared. "and if you see this Rewind, I need you to do me a favor and show this to Smokescreen and Arcee, too. I'm going to cut to the chase: I'm leaving. Don't try and look for me, I'll be fine. Look-" He looked around to if the drone at the door had come in. He was still alone. "Look...back on the shuttle, there was something I was going to tell you all. I didn't think much of it then because I thought we were all going to die. But, you should know anyway, since we're never going to see each other again. Well, on good terms. 

"You probably already figured out that me and Scalpel used to work together. But, what you may not know is that I may or may not have had some hand in engineering the plague you're infected with, and that's why I've decided to leave, in short. So, that should be a good enough reason for you to not look for me. I do, however," -he held up the syringe to the camera- "have the antidote; the real one, this time. This one is safe, I promise. There isn't enough in here to help you, but I'm hoping Perceptor may be able to use this to make more." He set it down beside Rewind. "I should really get going, so show this syringe to Perceptor and I hope you can convince him of things better that I can. 

"So...I'm going now. If the antidote works, tell Smokescreen to take it easy for a couple weeks. I don't care what Perceptors medics say, I don't want Smokescreen on his feet until two weeks have passed. He should be healed enough by then to walk without hurting himself. And Rewind, do yourself a favor and don't ask where you're arm is. I'm pretty sure you don't want to see it. 

"And I need Arcee to listen very closely. Do not, _do not_ , go back to Cybertron. I know you think that you have the answer with the antidote but, trust me, it'll already be too late to save Cybertron. Stay here and stay safe. Please, don't ask me how I know, I just do. Things will be way better for you if you just stay here." He paused. "Also, one more thing, also for Arcee. When...if she wakes up, tell her that..." he forced himself to focus on the camera again. "Tell her that I'm sorry. I'm not cut out for the whole Autobot thing, and I'm sorry you ever tried. Goodbye, and please, _please_ don't go back to Cybertron." 

Knock Out stepped out of the camera's view and looked up at the three bots again. He tore his eyes off them and strode out of the medbay. The drone was still here and gave him a sideways look as he exited. "Took you long enough," they said. "Did you say everything you wanted?" 

Knock Out nodded. "I hope so."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK!
> 
> I cannot even begin to say how sorry I am for not updating in so long. I was going to pick it up in August but once college started I was SWAMPED with writing work. I was so buried under work that I had no time to write this, let alone even think about it. 
> 
> Also, I've been really fighting with myself about the ending. I've had an ending planned out from the get-go, but now it's going through some rethinking. 
> 
> Anyway, I promised that this story wasn't dead and daggonnit I'm gonna keep my word! I just feel so bad for not even updating. If this story still has an audience after all this time, then I thank you so so so so much for being so patient.
> 
> I have put too much work into this story to quit. I'll finish it if it kills me!

Perceptor was already an hour into his work when someone knocked on his office door. The scientist hit a key on the keyboard amidst his calculations and the door opened, letting Firewall in. 

"Sir, Knock Out is gone. The shuttle is, too." 

Perceptor didn’t turn to Firewall, nor did he stop typing. "And the other three?" 

"Still here. But, the smaller one -the one missing an arm- insisted I give you this." Firewall put a petri dish on Perceptor's desk. "He said it's urgent." 

Perceptor stopped typing and carefully picked up the dish, examining the small amount of liquid inside. "What is this?" 

"The minibot -Replay, I think his name is- kept saying something about a cure for their infliction. We've run a few tests and the substance doesn't appear to be harmful." 

Perceptor tilted the dish and watched the thick liquid slide across the bottom of the dish. "Where did it come from?" 

"He says Knock Out left it with him last night along with an explanation," Firewall replied. 

Perceptor turned to Firewall, still studying the dish. "have you tested the effects on their ailment?" 

"We need your word for that," Firewall stated. 

Perceptor's gaze shifted from Firewall to the dish and back again. After a minute or two, he stood up and handed this dish back to Firewall. "Take a sample of the rust and bring it to me. I'll run my own tests." 

"Yes, sir." Firewall disappeared out of the office. Perceptor turned back to his calculations, but found himself growing more and more distracted until he was unable to continue. He sat silently with his hands resting on the keys, snatching them back when he saw the unintentional string of Ws trailing across the terminal. 

*** 

Mouthless drones made terrible conversation. Though, it wasn't like Knock Out wanted to speak to the hodge-podge of scraps that sounded like shaking a bucket of scissors when it walked. When it wasn't gesturing to a direction for Knock Out to drive, it just sat silently and starred out the windshield. It was an unpleasant traveling companion to say the least. This left Knock Out to his thoughts, which wasn't much of a better deal. So, in the end, he tried to occupy any and all unwanted thoughts with the rickety hum of the shuttle. He hadn't kept tabs on how long they had traveled, so the sight of the ruins of Velocitron was a bit of a wake-up call. From what Knock Out could tell, they were approaching it from the southwest side. 

Knock Out almost had time to consider how all of the past week's events could have been avoided if they had traveled in the opposite direction from the start. What interrupted him was the dashboard radio sputtering to life. 

"About time you showed up," huffed a low voice over the radio. Chop Shop's voice was enough to redirect Knock Out's thoughts from his vexation. 

"I figured I'd meet you on Cybertron," Knock Out replied. The drone on the dashboard clicked against the windshield. Another vehicle, bigger than Knock Out's, idled near Velocitron's diminished atmosphere. 

"The boss fancied that I'd meet you halfway," Chop Shop answered, the gravely radio almost canceling out his already gravely voice. "He can't wait to see ya'." 

Knock Out sank towards the other ship. "I'm honored." 

Chop Shop's ship veered downwards towards Velocitron's surface. Knock Out followed a little slower, picking up the radio again. "Aren't we headed towards Cybertron?" 

"Scalpel insisted that you ride with me. He doesn't like the thought of you driving that clunker." 

Knock Out didn't reply and brought the shuttle to Velocitron's scarred surface. The faceless drone scampered onto Knock Out's shoulder as they disembarked. Knock Out resisted from shuddering as the gnarled thing climbed up his spinal strut. He made a note to wax himself twice after this whole ordeal was over with. His neglected finish made him feel unsightly. 

Chop Shop stepped out of the ship and stood with his hands behind his back and smiling a smile so wide that it was most definitely forced. "Welcome back," he said and Knock Out approached. 

Knock Out almost mirrored Chop Shop's uncomfortable grin. "Good to be back." 

He strode past Chop Shop and into the bigger ship. Some component in him unwound as he saw the cleaner interior. It was nice to be in a newer, cleaner ship. The absence of unidentifiable stains that the old shuttle was swarmed with put him somewhat at ease. This was short lived as Knock Out suddenly felt tiny sets of legs scrambling up his legs and back. He shuddered this time. 

Chop Shop laughed from behind him. "Aw, they missed you." 

Knock Out stuck out one leg to find tiny drones crawling up and around him. He huffed out a chuckle and swallowed a disturbed noise that had almost escaped him. "Yep. So, I see." 

He cringed when one drone scraped across the back of his neck rather harshly. Knock Out's servo twitched like he was about to grab hold of his buffer. Then the drones filed off of him and into the ship's crevices and Knock Out was able to let go of the breath he was holding. Chop Shop stifled another laugh. 

"Make yourself comfortable," the larger bot said, taking his position in the cockpit. "We'll hit Cybertron in a few hours." 

Knock Out took a step forward and the ground suddenly felt really far away. He stumbled and tried to regain his balance. "Wait, don’t take off yet," Knock Out called to Chop Shop, his voice faltering. "I hhhhavent satdown...yet.." He slurred, making an ungraceful path to a seat. "I'mmmm gettin' there..." He was able to turn around before collapsing into the seat. The ceiling lights made nauseating wobbly patterns before Knock Out's eyes as his world went black and his body went limp in his seat. Just before he went out, he felt tiny legs underneath him lift him gently out of the chair. 

*** 

Arcee had been walking for some time. She walked in a perfectly straight line, foot in front of foot, and her gaze was always ahead. But, it wasn’t until this moment that she started to question where she was going and why. There was an invisible force leading her forward, letting her walk leisurely but didn't let her stop. Looking anywhere besides forward felt like a hassle, so she wasn’t bothering. Still, she felt more and more like she had to. For now, though, she realized what she was headed towards. 

A thick pillar of light rose out of her sight, pitch blackness on either side. She was at least one hundred steps away from it. Without looking down, she felt and heard light splashing beneath her feet. 

She felt like she was waking up from a dream. She wasn’t sure where she was or why she was walking towards the pillar. She didn't feel ready to look on either side of her, but she did try to look up. Little by little, she could see that the pillar disappeared into the sky and seemed to go on forever upwards. She then had the courage to look down. She could see her reflection clear as day in the "water" she was walking in. The liquid rose up to below her ankles, but the surface wasn’t disturbed by her walking despite the splashing she could hear. 

"Arcee." 

Arcee looked up at the pillar again. Now, something interrupted the pillar: a bleary figure shrouded in black. As she neared, she fought to get a better look. 

"Arcee," the figure said. "Come here. Come rest." 

Rest sounded good. It sounded fantastic, actually. It felt like something Arcee had wanted to do for her entire life. 

"Come rest, Arcee." 

She knew that voice. She knew that shape. She would have recognized that bot anywhere. There, just in front of the pillar, stood Cliffjumper. He was still in shadows, but she knew who he was all the same. He had his arms out to her. She couldn't see his face, but she didn’t doubt he was smiling that good humored, joking smile he always had. Even with his even, empty voice, she knew it. She just knew it. 

"Come rest." 

She was so close. She could almost touch him. Just a few more steps. She wanted to rest. She was so tired. 

"Arcee, stop." 

Another voice from behind her, so low it rumbled in Arcee's chest. It made her slow her stride. She attempted to look back, but Cliffjumper called out again. 

"Come rest, Arcee." 

Arcee continued forward. Rest was all she wanted. Being with Cliff was all she wanted. So tired. Rest. 

She felt like she was going to fall back into her stupor when she heard footsteps in the water coming from behind her. A large servo rested on her shoulder. 

"Turn around." 

She wanted to keep walking. It was so hard to stop, but so easy to proceed. The person behind her didn’t force her to stop, but they followed her forward, hand still on her shoulder. 

"Come rest." 

"Turn around." 

"Come." 

"Stop." 

Cliffjumper had put his arms down and seemed to be speaking to the figure behind her. Cliff's voice was still neutral. The other, however, was commanding and sounded more real. 

Arcee was feet away from Cliff and the pillar now. She felt the person behind her lightly squeeze her shoulder. She suddenly felt like she was been shocked and, for a moment, felt wide awake. She stopped herself just a foot away from Cliff and could feel the other's presence looming over her. She had to turn around. 

Slowly, she turned and looked up, blinking up at the bot standing over her. He wasn't in shadows, he was in plain sight. She looked right into the optics of Optimus Prime himself. 

Arcee finally felt the ability to look around. There was nothing but void as far as she could see. The Water stretched for miles and reflected the light pillar under her feet. She realized she had been walking perfectly along the reflection this entire time. How long had she been here? How long had she been walking? 

"Several days," Optimus said. Arcee looked back up at him? 

"What?" She said, shutting her mouth quickly as her voice escaped in a static mess. 

"You have been walking here for several days," Optimus repeated. "It is only now that I have been able to reach you." 

"Why?" Arcee asked, her voice a bit clearer now. It felt like she hadn't used her voice box in forever. 

Optimus looked up at the pillar. Cliffjumper remained in place, staring at Optimus with black eyes. Cliff was a silhouette, void of any volume or actual existence. He really was just a shadow; Arcee could see that now. He looked like he wouls collapse in Arcee touched him. He was just dark air. Optimus gestured towards the pillar. 

"Through this pillar is the Well of Allsparks," he said. "You have been walking this path your entire life, but now you have come close enough to see the gate." 

Arcee gazed at the pillar. It was so close that she could reach out and touch it. "The Well..." She murmured. Her vents caught and she stepped back from the pillar. "Am I...?" 

"Close," Optimus finished. "Very close." 

Arcee's thoughts reeled. She eyed up Cliff's shadow. Even if he wasn’t really there, his offer of rest didn't seem any less enticing. She was still so tired. She could feel the pull to walk into the pillar again. A shadow of Cliff felt better than no Cliff at all. 

"But, things have changed now," Optimus continued. "You now have the opportunity to walk away." 

Arcee didn’t understand. She had barely taken in that Optimus Prime was standing with her when she had seen him perish. Now, she had the choice to walk away from death? She was dying? She didn't feel like she was dying. Her processor was cloudy and nothing was connecting. From what she knew at the moment, walking away sounded crazy. The decision was easy. Her spark ached for rest. She needed it so badly. 

"Know this," Optimus said, interrupting her thoughts. "you're time with the living is not over. There are still things to be reconciled. You are still needed." 

Arcee looked back at Optimus. "Who needs me?" 

"There are some who have risked much to bring you back, and there are many more that need you to live." 

Arcee couldn’t put her finger on who Optimus was talking about, but when he mentioned these people, familiar feelings sparked in her processor just for a moment. It became something that started to pull her away from the pillar. 

"Many lives depend on you at this moment. I came to stop you on their behalf," Optimus continued. He stood still, making to move to pull Arcee away. Any movement was completely up to her. There was a tiny point of hesitation that grew bigger as she dwelled on it. She was so tired, so ready to never fight or continue, but still the blurry faces of those that supposedly needed her weighed just as much on her. The more awake she felt, the more important these nameless people seemed to her. 

She wanted Optimus to force her away from the pillar. The desire to rest and to live were equal now, like two equal weights tied to her arms. She looked back at Optimus again, but he remained still. 

"The choice is yours, Arcee." 

Being close to the pillar made it difficult to remember her name. She had to play it back in her head and she felt more awake each time she did. 

_Arcee._

Arcee. 

Arcee! 

What is the matter with you!? Arcee, wake up! 

Arcee felt like someone had cut the tie to the weight holding her towards the pillar. She stumbled back and caught herself before she fell. Names and faces were starting to assemble in her mind like an avalanche of information. 

She had to go back. She knew she had to. 

Cliff's shadow evaporated from sight. 

Arcee turned fully to her Prime, looking right into his optics again. 

"I'm going back." 

Optimus just nodded. Immediately, the water beneath her peds became deeper and she fell through the water and into darkness.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!!  
> I promise I didn't abandon you guys! I am unimaginably sorry for how long its been!

"y u di th s." 

"you di this." 

"You did this." 

_The misshapen face was nose-to-nose with Knock Out now. It starred through him. Knock Out had had this dream before. It was never always the same face. Always different bots staring at him, sadness, fear, and pain in their eyes, so many bots that he had lost count. He could always meet their gaze. He wasn’t afraid of them._

"You did this." 

_This face was the only re-occuring one, however. He was used to the agonized expressions of the others. But, this one didn’t even look at him with a hint of emotion. It just sat there, repeating the same sentence like some incantation. It wasn't afraid of him._

_Knock Out wanted it to be afraid of him. He felt increasingly uncomfortable. His gaze faltered, and he wasn't able to get it back. Looking into the unholy mesh of people he knew and dared to care about was like jabbing blades into his eyes._

_For the first time since he had been faced with people he had killed, Knock Out looked away._

*** 

Knock Out woke sluggishly from an uncomfortable sleep. His head was throbbing and the light hanging above him barred him from opening his eyes. When he could, he tried to cover his face with his hands, only to find that he couldn’t move them. His legs were stuck in place as well, his head too. 

Still not able to open his eyes, his imagination was left to do mock up the scenery for him. Clamped down like this was never a good sign, but it was in a specific way that made his tanks drop. In addition, he could catch the smell of medical disinfectant and other cleaning fluids. He was sore all over and his mouth and throat were parched. He knew what waking up from surgery was like, but usually from his patients. Now that the roles were switched, he felt like an insect pinned to a wall. 

Every sense he had told him told him to panic, but he didn't dare to. If he was waking up from surgery, the surgeon was undoubtedly close by, and Knock Out knew exactly who that surgeon would be. He'd sooner die than show him he was terrified. Still, his vents were short and his spark was about to burst. 

A shadow passed in front of the light above Knock Out's face and he was able to open his eyes just a little. As he expected, Scalpel hung from lamp inches from his face. 

_"Guten Morgen!"_ Scalpel said, swinging slightly on the lamp. "How are you feeling?" 

Knock Out dignify that question with an answer, he only forced a scowl to mask his fear. Scalpel shrugged. 

"Nevermind," Scalpel wheezed. "I can see it in your opitcs. You're exhausted." He swung the lamp a bit more now, sometimes passing out of Knock Out's vision. "Narcotics wear off easily. You should feel much better very soon." 

Still nothing from Knock Out; partly out of spite and partly because his throat was so dry he didn’t think even he could speak. Scalpel took his cue to keep talking. 

"Now, I know you're wondering: 'where am I?'. Cybertron is still a few days away, I'm afraid. Patience, though. You'll see our work unfold soon enough." 

_Our work._ Knock Out's insides went taught. He flexed his arms against his restraints and he knew Scalpel noticed. 

"Oh, forgive those," he said. "I didn't want to tie you down, but you know how Chop Shop is. He still doesn’t trust you. But, if I were you, I wouldn't do much moving. You might hurt yourself." 

Knock Out's frown deepened. He still had no voice, but he mouthed his words quite pointedly: Cut the act. 

Scalpel tried to look surprised, but he dropped his guise. "I'm just about done being polite with you. I'm putting an end to all your guff, Knock Out. You always seem to completely forget who decided to keep you online after all this time. Be thankful for once, will you?" 

With what little coolant he could find in his mouth, Knock Out did his best to spit in Scalpel's face. He missed. 

"Aw, look at this," Scalpel cooed, tilting his head patronizingly and reaching down to wipe the coolant off Knock Out's face. "Oh, you're so brave, Knock Out! Strapped to a table, coming out of being drugged, and you still have a bit of fire left in you!" He chortled disgustingly. "I should be asking you to cut the act. You're puffing out your chassis like none of this bothers you in the slightest. But, I know you better than that." 

Scalpel dropped to Knock Out's chest. "You're scared of me. You always have been. It was I who taught you how to cut Autobots up and reassemble them in horrific sculptures," the sharp surgeon climbed up to Knock Out's face, purposefully scraping his needle feet against Knock Out's finish. "And I will not hesitate to do the same with you." 

Scalpel paused. "Well, then again, it is a bit too late for that." 

Knock Out went cold. He forced his voice to work as panic set in again. 

"What did you do to me?" 

Scalpel grinned. He was itching to tell, but he drew the answer out. 

"I just figured that, in order for you to see exactly what our project is capable of, I thought I would introduce it to you up close and personal," Scalpel paused again, waiting for a reaction. Even without Knock Out's face changing, he could see he was getting to him. Knock Out's charged EM field betrayed him. 

"At first, Chop Shop and I discussed slashing your neck cables and spreading a good heap of Cobalt Steel into the wound," he pressed a needle dangerously close to Knock Out's windpipe. "But, that would be too quick. We then thought about giving you a thick coating of the stuff, so you can watch your beautiful finish crumble. But, it was still lacking a sort of...pazazz. That was when I had the best idea! Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough time to carry out the full process, but I did make some room for a sizable charge riiiight..." Scalpel scraped Knock Out's midsection. "Here." 

Knock Out's EM field betrayed him further. The realization of what Scalpel had done nearly plunged him into full-fledged panic. 

"I wanted you to really feel the climax of Cobalt Steel as it wiped Cybertron clean. So, in a way, you are the climax. Do you know what that means?" Scalpel jumped to the lamp again and stared directly into Knock Out's eyes. "Knock Out of Upper Velocitron, you are hereby demoted to K-class Warrior!" 

Knock Out's fear finally shown in his eyes. K-Class was worse than death to him. Repurposed into a bomb, basically born to die. It was a constant threat hung over one's head in the Decepticon ranks, especially for Knock Out. his altmode was everything to him. He had worked so hard to evade demotion. This couldn't possibly be happening. Not now! 

Scalpel smiled wide at Knock Out's fear. He laughed like a sparkling and swung to and fro on the lamp. "Oh, don’t look so frightened," Scalpel hacked. "It's not permanent. It's more to make sure you don’t walk away from me again. You're charge will only detonate when I say so. You see, I’m not quite finished with you yet." 

Knock Out stared blankly up at his old boss. 

"I want you to bring me some bots from Cybertron. Bring me at least ten. I can't let all of those Autobots die. I've been dreadfully short on test subjects. I think ten should do it." 

Knock Out nodded along. He felt like he was in a trance. Demotion felt like a weight sitting on his chest. Little by little, Scalpel was tightening an invisible cord around Knock Out's neck. He should have known he wasn't going to walk away from all of this so easily. 

"Also, in addition to those, why don't you bring me that old rattler, Ratchet. It's been quite a while since I've seen him. I can't believe he's still alive." Scalpel hopped onto the floor. "I'll give you four hours once we reach Cybertron. It's completely up to you; do what I say or neither of us get what we want." 

Scalpel left the room quietly. As soon as the door shut, Knock Out's restraints released and he sat up. Still heavy from the narcotics, he went to stand and fell ungracefully to the floor. He chose not to get up, but rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling. He felt himself over for any changes. For the most part, he was still the same, save for the unfamiliar weight from the charge. 

He took deep breaths, but he couldn't calm down in the slightest. He wasn’t sure what to think, he was still trying to process Scalpel's words. He still didn’t believe all of it. 

Ten bots. Ten test subjects or he would explode. But, Scalpel wouldn't stop there. That old surgeon would use that threat for the rest of Knock Out's life. Knock Out could never leave now. He knew it. If he didn’t feel trapped before, he now felt like was inches away from being crushed in a compactor. 

Knock Out sat up and propped himself against the wall, dropping his head into his hands. At any other time, kidnapping ten Autobots would have been a breeze; no second thoughts needed. Just get it done and it would be over, even fun. But, now Knock Out felt terrible. He hated it. He hated it so much. 

He remembered Arcee, Smokescreen, and Rewind. They were safe. He knew something like this would happen, and he had told them to stay put. If they didn’t listen, Perceptor would. They were safely far away from Cybertron, hopefully alive and well. 

Knock Out felt his spark flutter. He almost forgot about that feeling. He remembered that day, so many weeks ago, when he had felt it last. He would miss racing so much. He couldn’t transform anymore without detonating his new payload. 

He remembered cruising the open freeway with Breakdown. Those were good times. They felt so far away now. Breakdown felt so far away. He hated how whenever he thought of Breakdown, those memories had to share a space with... 

Arcee. He couldn’t stop that from happening. It made him feel horrible. He felt so horrible to even feel anything about Arcee. Something in him wanted to move away from Breakdown and continue with his life, and Arcee seemed to help him do that. Thoughts of Breakdown were always ruined by seeing SILAS inhabiting his body, vilely defacing the frame of someone Knock Out had cared about so much. Similarly, he couldn't stop thinking about Arcee without seeing her cold, rusted, and near death with Scalpel's drones all over her. 

Knock Out folded his fingers over his neck and hid his head between his knees. His throat burned and he trembled slightly. He wanted Breakdown here so he could apologize. 

_Sorry for letting you be torn apart by Arachnid, sorry for letting SILAS deface your body and wear it like a new skin, sorry for being such a terrible partner_. 

Then he wanted Arcee there to apologize to her. He wanted to look her straight in the eyes and pour out his spark to her. He wanted her to get angry and he wanted her to kick him across the room and tell him how she would never, ever feel the same. Then maybe he'd feel better about all this. 

He sat there against the wall, imagining Arcee beat him to a pulp for ever wishing she would so much as tolerate him. It gave him a little bit of closure. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saving my explanations for the end.  
> So, it's been about 2 years since I updated and I have seen each and every one of your very kind, understanding, and excited comments! It still completely floors me every time that all of you stick by me and this story. I really wish I had the time/motivation to be more frequent with updates. College has been kicking my ass and my major is extremely demanding. I still love Transformers very dearly and I do want to finish this. Looking back, lots of this story can be improved and I've been thinking of rewriting some chapters/scenes, but I will try my absolute damndest to finish! I might post other stories from time to time, but I have not given up on this one!  
> I'm currently a Junior in college and I started this as a Junior in high school. Lots of things have changed over the years, especially my storytelling style, so I really hope future chapters aren't jarring in style compared to earlier ones.  
> I've also wanted to briefly address updated TF canon since i've been away, particularly the conformation of Knock Out and Breakdown being Conjunx Endurae. I hope no one gets this vibe from this story, but I am in no way trying to erase that relationship. I'm using the canon that Breakdown dies in, but the last thing i'd ever want to do is assume that relationship never happened or that KO is suddenly straight. Trust me, that is not the case with him in this story and will be addressed albeit kind of covertly. Personally, I believe all Cybertronians to be basically pansexual, being alien robots and all.  
> Again, as always, I can't thank you all enough for sticking with me this long. It means the world to me that you have all been so patient. I hope all of you have been well over the hiatus and continue to do well moving forward!


End file.
